


A Star is Made, the Sun is Born

by spyblue31



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Practice Kissing, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 91,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyblue31/pseuds/spyblue31
Summary: Lee Donghyuck is the beginning and the end.As a fifteen-year-old boy, Renjun hates Donghyuck so much that he crosses the Yellow Sea to become a trainee in Korea's largest entertainment company.It takes Renjun 5 years to realise that the opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. But Renjun has never been indifferent to Donghyuck.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 101
Kudos: 424
Collections: Renhyuck Fic Fest Round 1





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! A round of applause to the Renhyuck mods for holding the ficfest, you're the loveliest people ever. Thank you to my prompter for prompt 5, I hope you will like it. To my darling beta, my sincere and immense gratitude for your tireless work. This wouldn't be here if not for you.
> 
> As a note, there is an accidental outing in Act 2 2018 February. It's an accidental outing among friends, it's not done with ill-intent, there are no negative consequences as a result of the outing, but I understand that it might be triggering to some. It begins with 'That’s apparently the last straw for Donghyuck' and ends with 'Only the seven of us' if you would prefer skipping it.
> 
> With that being said, I hope you will enjoy reading. I will leave a proper author's note afterwards!

**Prologue**

Huang Renjun dreamt of being a star.

In the world’s most populous country of 1.4 billion people, amounting to 18% of the world’s population, the numbers were already against him from the start. What right did he have to be a star above all other mortals?

When seven-year-old Renjun whispered his most fervent wish to his cousin over steamed red-bean buns in their grandmother’s backyard, predictably, she smiled at him indulgently and said ‘of course’. Any other words she would have said were promptly forgotten in favour of shoving past her when they were called for dinner.

Perhaps if Renjun was born somewhere special, it might have been feasible—important Beijing, glitzy Shanghai, or entertainment capital Changsha. But no, he had the misfortune of being born in Jilin, the Rust Belt of China, a province languishing from the legacy of Deng Xiaoping’s ‘Let some people get rich first’ while the rest of the country flourished, the farthest thing away from the glamour of entertainment and celebrities.

Renjun is nothing like Chenle, who is bright-eyed, happy-go-lucky, possessing the confidence that the world is kind because no one has ever led him to believe otherwise. Renjun is not Fuerdai, his parents are lowly restaurant staff—not restaurateurs—and possess no connections to the music industry. Renjun is taken care of by his grandmother out of necessity like many other left-behind children whose parents work long days in the city; he has no army of aunts and grandparents to shower him with gifts and praise.

The easiest fact to illustrate Chenle’s privilege was the simple fact that he was the younger son in his family in the country of the One Child Policy. No, he wasn’t the younger brother to an older sister in a rural village conceived to help out a struggling family. No, he wasn’t born because his parents were single children and his birth was necessary to minimise the burden of an aging population. Chenle’s existence is not a necessity nor an investment. Chenle doesn’t come as an exception to the rules; no, he breaks the rules because when you have money, you’re simply above them. Chenle is born of love and choice and money.

But perhaps the most important distinction between them is that Renjun’s family has never nurtured his desire to be a singer the way Chenle’s parents did. Jilin is a cold, harsh and industrial city, it spits out perennial and hardy weeds, not the pretty, evanescent blooms in Shanghai that require tender effort and care. There is simply no time for daydreams of fame, no money for private concerts and no place to deviate from the expected route of school, university and job.

And yet, at fifteen, Renjun bucks his parents’ expectations— _society’s_ expectations—and dares to dream of a bigger, brighter and better existence. He gets on a bullet train ride to Shenyang. He goes home with an offer from the largest and most well-known Korean entertainment company.

His parents are aghast. When they allowed him to indulge in EXO, they hadn’t expected their only son to be seduced to the point of crossing the Yellow Sea to follow the footsteps of his idols. Renjun hadn’t even sought their permission before auditioning; beyond the fact that it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission, he thought it redundant considering the impossibility of admittance.

In the back of his mind, Renjun didn’t truly expect to be chosen. The audition was to eliminate his wayward, foolhardy dream; he was months away from graduating secondary school and entering the three years of purgatory that was high school. His parents had been pushing him to choose a science specialist high school when he longed to attend an arts high school. Renjun was so close to cracking, he just had one more card to play before the game was up.

If SM rejected him once and for all, then he would fold to his parents’ wishes, knowing that when he inevitably agonised over Gaokao and stressed over university choices, he didn’t regret the road not taken because he had tried. After all, out of the millions of young, talented and beautiful hopefuls in China, what was so special about scrawny and mediocre Huang Renjun from Jilin that necessitated the attention of SM Entertainment?

Perhaps, if the judges were feeling particularly magnanimous, he might ascend to the second round. Renjun attended with the mindset that it was a matter of time before he got the axe, so he was never too nervous, he didn’t tremble and he didn’t waver. He was aware of his unexceptional vocals and average dancing ability. He was aware how stereotypical he was in dancing EXO at an SM Entertainment audition. He wasn’t handsome or tall or special in any way, he was just fifteen-year-old Huang Renjun from Jilin, amused that he was even here.

It was skill that passed him through the first round, it was luck that he got through the second. But the third? Perhaps God or some higher being or even just Artists & Repertoire liked the irony—after dancing to two EXO songs (Growl and Overdose), Renjun danced to Taeyang’s Ringa Linga. He was certain he wouldn’t pass. But they chose fifteen-year-old, scrawny, short and average Huang Renjun from Jilin as their only pick out of the thousands of auditionees that weekend to become an official trainee. Years later, he would still be baffled by whatever it was they saw in him.

But before Renjun even gets to go, he has to battle his disapproving parents who view his decision to abandon his education in China and to become a trainee at a Korean entertainment company as the stupidest, most illogical decision ever. This was a contract for becoming a trainee, not an idol. After years of dedicated training and thousands of Yuan amassed in trainee debt, there was no guarantee of a debut. What kind of investment was this? You invest in shares, even if the share price dropped, there was still value in the base price of the shares itself. Even to his high school graduate parents, they knew it wasn’t an investment, it was a gamble.

This, combined with the context of 2015, significantly hindered his parents’ consent. Sino-Korean relations were never warm, but they declined that year. His parents were concerned about xenophobia considering the venerable barrage of hate comments from Korean netizens after the exodus of the three EXO Chinese members.

But Renjun was determined. He had played his card and came out with an ace when he’d expected a joker. Plus, these were his parents—he knew how to win against these opponents. At the heart of the matter, his parents wanted security and stability for him. The Northeast’s economy, heavy industry based, had stagnated, with unemployment at a record high. Renjun needed to reassure them that he would have a promising future, one that was equal to or greater than the best he could hope for back home. He chose to turn a weakness into strength, pointing out how prosperous the three Chinese EXO members’ careers remained after their return from Korea.

This could truly be an investment that was going to be win-win for all. Renjun believed that he could convince them in the end. But just in case, he had a contingency—one that would bulldoze through all his careful negotiation, as he had personal savings sufficient for a one-way aeroplane ticket to Seoul and an artistic ability that extended to signature forgery. He’d keep that in his back pocket, only to be used in dire circumstances.

Finally, finally. He was able to persuade his parents through legal means and they allowed him to go with the understanding that he would come back. His parents were under the impression that he would go to Korea, debut as an idol, gather an impressive fan base, and eventually return to China to expand his career. In 2015, Renjun didn’t disagree. It was a common path and he believes it highly likely.

Renjun is Chinese. He might have grown up learning Korean in school, his name might be dogged with rumours of another supposed heritage— that he was a North Korean refugee who fled to Jilin (a backhanded compliment to his fluency in Korean certainly) but he has never forgotten his roots.

Huang Renjun is Chinese. His home is China. He is loyal to his country. In fact, he loves his country—with its immense history, incredible landscape, exceptional culture and extraordinary manpower.

And yet, as he receives the news of his scheduled debut in WayV, more than anything, he feels the cold coils of dread slither across his heart and _squeeze_.

It’s too soon. He thought he had more time, he thought Label V would take longer to prepare, he thought he would have resolved everything with—

Renjun reminds himself: his home is China, his mother tongue is Chinese, his family is in China, his friends are in China, his favourite food is Chinese, his income is generated by wealthy Chinese companies, his career is patronised by generous Chinese fans.

China is his past. China is his future.

Korea, as he watches the boy who emboldens the sun sing into the microphone, is his present.

**2015 July**

Lee Donghyuck is the beginning and the end.

As an avid EXO-L in circa 2014, he watched EXO 902014 like any other good fan. Despite China’s fierce censorship firewalls, the country produced more passionate EXO-Ls than any other country in the world. Therefore, in the days before Renjun knew how to use VPNs, he used to camp out in front of the single bulky desktop computer in the living room to watch grainy, pirated videos on Youku Tudou.

Several episodes in, he started to get annoyed when he saw the appearance of a bunch of rookies along with his idols. EXO so infrequently guested on variety shows, was it so much to ask for that the programme only starred the twelve of them? That Weekly Idol episode only served to demonstrate that there wasn’t enough screen time to showcase them all (he was still bitter that Luhan didn’t even get to speak).

The appearance of those rookies once or twice would have been acceptable, but having them appear constantly? Anyone with a semblance of higher brain function knew that it was SM’s marketing strategy—they wanted the Korean public to know the faces of the next generation of idols— but it was irritating to have these boys forced down his throat when all he wanted to do was appreciate his idols. When he complained to his friends, they laughingly dismissed his opinions, saying that he was just a hater.

Renjun was personally offended by this. He was not a hater, thank you very much. And he was absolutely not jealous that those boys got to breathe in the same air as his idols. To substantiate his opinion, he had to conduct in-depth research. A hater hated in ignorance and was easily debunked. No, Renjun had educated, well-reasoned arguments as to why he did not support these rookies. They weren’t talented, weren’t funny and weren’t deserving of the honour of interacting with EXO, and to prove it he went on [www.smrookies.com](http://www.smrookies.com).

Unbeknownst to him, this was his downfall.

There was one boy, in particular, that irked him. As a Chinese patriot, he ought to support his fellow countrymen. It was indisputable that Luhan was handsome, athletic and spoke Korean so well people often mistook him for a native—entirely deserving of his adoration and attention. But it was Baehkyun—cheeky, mischievous and elfin Baekhyun who packed so much talent in his lithe body that SM was forced to debut him within just months of training (not that you’d be able to tell) who was his secret bias. And it was this particular boy, whom the video editors had deliberately edited to receive Baekhyun’s fond expression whenever he did a gag or an impression or anything at all apparently. The suggestion was clear and Renjun did not like it one bit. Therefore, his focus became finding exactly why Lee Donghyuck was not good enough.

More than five years later, Renjun still hasn’t found the answer.

Renjun in 2014 was young and foolish. He hasn’t learnt that he shouldn’t pick at wounds, that flicking off scabs would prolong the healing and leave scars. He hadn’t learnt yet to let bygones be bygones, and instead continued to obsess over this boy. There was something about Lee Donghyuck that made it easy to fixate on. Maybe it was the sheer volume of content that existed once Renjun started searching. He only discovered his existence in October 2014, but just typing in his name on Weibo yielded far too many search results for a nobody trainee.

There was Lee Donghyuck with a pale Canadian boy, introducing the SM Rookies website. There’s him again reacting to the debut video of SM’s new girl group Red Velvet in July. Him performing at SM Town Live in Seoul as a rookie while a bunch of SM seniors coo over him. It was unbelievable! For God’s sake, this was some twelve-year-old boy who hadn’t even debuted yet. Who was he to be going on national television with the most popular boy group, performing at sold-out stadiums and receiving so much recognition?

What was wrong with the world?

Obviously, there was something going very wrong in SM Entertainment because just weeks later, Luhan left the company and Renjun’s dream of seeing all twelve members perform together was dashed. In the months to follow, Tao would also leave EXO and it was like all the dominos were falling one by one.

And yet, even in that era of uncertainty, Lee Donghyuck persisted like the worst kind of weed in a flower garden—stealing the nutrients that belong to the cultivated flowers. In the reuploads on Youku Tudou, Renjun sees the tanned, round-faced boy appear over and over again, until Renjun can pick up his high, husky voice from the rest without even trying. Well, it wasn’t much of a feat when Lee Donghyuck never seemed to shut up.

It was preposterous. He has seen the SMRB14 videos which featured the older trainees Taeyong, Ten, Johnny and Hansol. Those boys were the trainees people expected. They were of age to debut, handsome, talented and cool. They looked like the future of SM Entertainment. But boys like Lee Donghyuck? Why, was he the token trainee SM included to fulfil their diversity obligations? To pretend SM didn’t care for visuals?

Somehow, it got worse. Lee Donghyuck and his ragtag group of friends (the Canadian boy who was attached to his hip, the tiny mousy boy, the pretty boy and the smiley-eyed boy) even had their own TV show. Renjun was horrified—while it was a children’s show, they got regular interaction with popular seniors like Super Junior and SNSD, and they had many chances to perform and stand out. SM was pushing these rookies hard, and Renjun wanted to know what made them so special to warrant this preferential treatment over other trainees.

Donghyuck sang, danced, and made jokes, but it was nothing special. Looking at him doesn’t inspire greatness or respect or intimidation, the way looking at EXO or SHINEE did. Renjun didn’t look at Donghyuck & co and think _wow, no wonder why they’re celebrities_. Renjun looked at them and thought _that could be me_ , _that should be me_.

Renjun watched Donghyuck, Mark, Jaemin, Jeno and Jisung from Jilin, China, and thought the world was so unfair. Their abilities weren’t much better than his, but because they’re Korean and live in Seoul, they got to actualise their dreams while Renjun could only watch in envy as his dreams seemed to dissipate with every passing year.

The decision to audition is one that comes to him like a prophecy. It was 2015, he would soon graduate from junior high school and was about to embark on the final three years of high school in preparation for Gaokao.

Renjun was scrolling on Weibo when he saw a list of dates and places for SM auditions in China. One was in Shenyang, three hours by train. He didn’t think much of it, knowing that the rate of success was so low it was practically non-existent.

But that night, he dreamt of Lee Donghyuck—standing bright beneath the spotlight, looking triumphant and exuberant as he sang into the microphone as adoring fans cheered his name. Renjun stood backstage, shrouded in shadows—always watching, always waiting, always wanting, always passive.

He woke up in puddles of cold sweat even though the windows were thrown open, the moon shining suspiciously bright, his heart racing like _he_ had performed a three-hour concert. Renjun blindly groped for his phone, typing in his details and booking his slot three minutes before the deadline with a mindless perfunctory that came from being half-awake.

In the morning, he woke up again to find the confirmation email in his inbox and promptly cursed Lee Donghyuck.

He knew he had been right all along—Lee Donghyuck was nothing but trouble.

**2015 September**

Seoul is simultaneously what Renjun thought it would be but also nothing like it.

Renjun isn’t such a country bumpkin so as to be blown away by high-rise buildings and fast-paced people striding purposefully in Gangnam. He knows that the subway has a rainbow of coloured lines and stations, that the subway billboards intersect between remarkable plastic surgery transformations and famous celebrity birthdays, and that convenient stores litter the streets instead of rubbish bins.

Rather, he’s taken aback by how similar everyone dresses, how different and foreign he feels despite speaking the language, and how lonely he would be all by himself, doing his best to establish a life here.

There are some things that no matter how much you anticipate, you’re still woefully unprepared when it happens to you. Moving to a new country and being homesick is one of those experiences. Arriving at SM Entertainment, realising that the real competition is here and that you are extremely inadequate is another.

Objectively, the hundred trainees in the company don’t seem like a lot. After all, going from thousands to around a hundred people significantly increases the odds, especially after considering his only actual competition are the boys. However, once factors such as the number of trainees in a group, the gap in between debuting and age are taken into account, then the odds just get worse. He’s competing among people of similar talent, beauty and dedication now—everyone here wants it just as badly.

Perhaps that explains the current of tension that undercuts every interaction between his fellow trainees after his self-introduction on his first day at the company.

No one is openly hostile, no one tells him to go home; in fact, they all smile and bow and welcome him into the company, assuring him they’re happy to help. Their eyes betray the wariness, though— _another starving polar bear on the melting ice_ —and Renjun feels like he is back at the audition again, except now everyone he meets are judges, waiting for him to slip up so they can eliminate him from the pack.

He still remembers the day he met Lee Donghyuck. In person, not through screen, as he had seen him for the past year. It’s probably this reason why he remembers it so clearly, because Lee Donghyuck is famous, because Lee Donghyuck is the reason why he is here, for better or for worse. People don’t remember the dates or details when they meet average people, they have no reason to foretell the significance a person has. But a celebrity is special, unforgettable, and even though he had spent the past year determinedly denying the boy’s importance, Renjun remembers in stark relief the first time he meets Lee Donghyuck.

To put it simply, it’s an unmitigated disaster.

When a trainee first enters the company, they are evaluated on their overall skill levels before being allocated to class. Renjun entered the company specialising in dance, so he was put in intermediate dance level. They determined that his singing ability was better than his rap, so they pushed him to develop that skill more. Once he became better in a certain area, he would advance to a more difficult class level.

In vocal class, he first meets a member of the Mickey Mouse Club gang—Mark Lee. After Renjun introduces himself, he notices the Canadian boy smiling at him in a friendly manner, so Renjun ends up sitting next to him.

Renjun is a bit jittery in vocal class since it’s his first official day at the company, and he’s sitting next to a venerable trainee who's been on television.

“Hey, don’t be nervous,” Mark Lee leans in to whisper in his ear when the instructor has turned around to write something on the board, and Renjun jolts in surprise. “When we have new trainees, we always start from the basics like breathing techniques and stuff.”

Renjun wonders if he’s that transparent, but he smiles gratefully at Mark, “Thanks.”

The instructor does end up going through a lot of vocal basics, training them on correct posture, vowel shaping and so on. Later, he tells them to break into pairs to practice.

Mark Lee turns to look at him with a smile, and this is the first time that Renjun gets a good look at his face. Mark’s eyebrows look rounder and fainter in person, giving him a sort of bug-eyed, startled look, and rather thin lips. He has a kind looking face, the type of person who would gullibly fall victim to a blind person robbery on the street. “Renjun, right? I’m Mark. Do you want to be my partner?”

“Sure,” Renjun agrees, before they go through a series of vocal exercises.

“Oh, hey! You’re pretty good!” Mark compliments him after they finish, weirdly enthusiastic. Renjun wonders if this is what people mean when they say Westerners are more open. “Did you get in by singing?”

“No, I danced to EXO sunbaenim’s songs,” Renjun says. “How did you get into the company?”

“I sang at the audition. Hey, like honestly, your Korean is great!” Mark looks genuinely amazed. “Like man, your Korean’s probably like better than mine, wow!”

Renjun chuckles embarrassedly, “I, uh, grew up in a province next to the North Korean border, so many ethnic Koreans live there. I learnt Korean all throughout school.”

“That’s so cool!” Mark grins at him and Renjun hesitantly smiles back. “Like, I grew up in Canada and I only spoke Korean at home, so people who don’t know I’m a gyopo expect me to be fluent.”

Mark is weirdly excitable which is charming in his own way, and Renjun begins to think that it’s not an act. When class finishes, Mark doesn’t immediately pack up and leave like the other trainees do. Instead, he hangs behind waiting as Renjun checks his schedule for his next class.

“Do you know where your next class is going to be?” Marks asks, swinging his Jansport backpack over his shoulders and looking at Renjun expectantly.

“Do you know where dance room 201 is?” Renjun looks at the paper a staff member had given him this morning to double check. “That’s where I have intermediate hip-hop.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Mark offers, gesturing for him to leave first. “I have a session—”

“Yah, Mark hyung, what took you so long?”

A sharp, high, familiar voice complaining with exaggerated annoyance met Renjun’s ears as he stepped out of the door, and suddenly there was Lee Donghyuck in person.

Lee Donghyuck is tanned, Renjun notices first, and his dark bowl cut hairstyle emphasises the roundness of his face—plump cheeks, speckled with moles, and full lips, which are currently pursued in confusion.

“You’re not Mark hyung,” He says in informal speech, before his expression clears up when Mark appears after Renjun. “Yah, what took you so long? You promised we would get snacks before rehearsals!”

“Ah, Donghyuck-ah,” Mark says casually, completely unphased, like he hears Donghyuck’s complaints all the time. “This is Renjun, he’s a new trainee from China. I’m showing him around the building.”

“Hello,” Renjun bows, speaking formally despite Donghyuck’s use of informal speech. “My name is Renjun. It’s nice to meet you.”

Lee Donghyuck gives him a onceover, continuing to speak informally, “Hi, I’m Donghyuck,” and then turns to Mark. “Hyung, come on, I’m starving. We only have fifteen minutes before class starts!”

Renjun’s smile becomes fixed as he watches Lee Donghyuck try to wheedle Mark into doing his bidding. He tells himself not to get annoyed at the use of informal speech; after all, both Renjun and Donghyuck are the same age (a fact that brought further righteous indignation upon discovery), not that he had even _asked_. Renjun might not have been Korean but he was aware of the hierarchical speech. So the only reason he can surmise for the use of banmal is that Lee Donghyuck must have decided that being an established trainee with a television programme under his belt made him more superior, so he needn’t be formal with newbies without even knowing their age.

“Donghyuck-ah, I told Renjun I would show him to dance room 201,” Mark says patiently. “We can get snacks later after class.”

“But hyung, I’m so hungry,” Lee Donghyuck whines, voice dripping with aegyo that makes Renjun inwardly cringe. “Besides, dance room 201 is easy to find, it’s on the second floor.” Lee Donghyuck turns to look at Renjun, raising two fingers and pointing to the lift, speaking slowly and still informally. “Second floor.”

“Second floor? To the left or the right of the hallway?” Renjun asks with a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, and which year are you born?” He asks just so he can finally drop the honorifics. If Donghyuck wouldn’t, he wouldn’t too.

Lee Donghyuck blinks once upon hearing Renjun’s fluent Korean, but he replies without any remorse, “It’s to the left of the hallway at the very end. And I’m born in 2000.”

“Oh, we’re same age friends then,” Renjun smiles mildly, dropping the honorifics. “It’s nice to meet you, Donghyuck-ah. And you too, Mark sunbae. Hope you have a great rehearsal.”

Renjun strides to the lift without further ado, indignation making him bold. Donghyuck could get mad at him for disrespecting his seniority, but Renjun would happily play his ‘get-out-of-jail’ clueless foreigner card.

He didn’t mean to be petty but Lee Donghyuck’s arrogance to new trainees was unbelievable. Mark had heard Renjun’s self-introduction, so he knew his age and adjusted himself accordingly, but Donghyuck just straight up used banmal without even asking his age. That was rude and disrespectful. He was sure Donghyuck thought he could get away with it because Renjun was a dumb foreigner who didn’t know any better.

Lee Donghyuck was completely self-absorbed. It was just selfish of him to push Mark to accompany him to the convenience store rather than show a new trainee around the company. He’d had low expectations for Donghyuck’s personality to begin with, but the boy had still managed not to meet them. The bar was on the floor and somehow Donghyuck still managed to flub it. Somehow, he feels rather vindicated.

Renjun decides that he was right not to like Lee Donghyuck. He _doesn’t_ like him. No, not at all.

**2015 December**

Before Renjun knows it, he survives three monthly evaluations and winter has finally settled in. While the streets are bustling with merry shoppers, the buildings decked with festive decorations, the inside of SM Entertainment is filled with more stressed, anxious and competitive spirit than a study hall before Sunneung.

Renjun has just finished dance class and he is more than ready for lunch. At the private cafeteria in the basement of the SM building, Renjun grabbed his tray of soybean paste stew, grilled mackerel and kimchi before settling down on the table with Kun, Sicheng, and Yukhei.

Until he arrived at SM, he had never quite understood the fuss the Americans made about lunchtime at the cafeteria being the biggest demonstration of power and popularity, as he had seen in a pirated and subtitled copy of Mean Girls.

Now, Renjun knew better.

If Renjun were to adopt the American’s hyperbolic language, the Rookies were the rulers of the SM trainees. With a name like the Rookies (with a name at all), it signified that they weren’t faceless nobodies in a sea of trainees locked in the SM basement. They were endorsed—above other trainees, destined to debut.

The Rookies always sat on the same table, though there were cliques amongst them. The tall, intimidating senior American trainee Johnny Suh always sat with the Thai trainee Ten, conversing in English. The striking and fine-featured Taeyong was next to handsome, princely Jaehyun. Wide-eyed Yuta was chatting with Hansol, both of whom Renjun had once mistook them as brothers. Dongyoung, a clean-cut boy, sat with the deceptively young looking Taeil. Jeno and Jaemin were joined at the hip, though Jaemin turned often to Jisung to smother him with unwanted affection.

And despite being one of the youngest, seated always at the head of the table like a company Chairman, Lee Donghyuck presided over the rest of the Rookies, chatting so loudly as if it was a sin for his voice to go unheard. Constantly to his right was Mark Lee, the Golden Boy trainee whom Donghyuck had confounded into becoming his best friend.

It was honestly perplexing how Lee Donghyuck got away with disrespecting everyone all the time, in his opinion. Once, Mark had invited Renjun to sit with them. That day, Lee Donghyuck cut the queue and stole Renjun’s tonkatsu, leaving him to wait an extra ten minutes for his food. Then, Lee Donghyuck proceeded to sit in that same seat, pompously lecturing Renjun about the dos and don’ts of being a trainee at SM, completely unsolicited. Renjun didn’t even get five words in the entire meal; Lee Donghyuck just loved the sound of his voice _that_ much. And it wasn’t only Renjun who received these unwanted lectures—he heard that he’d even done it to boys older than him as if he was an (self-proclaimed) expert.

It boggles the mind that Lee Donghyuck could buck hierarchy so shamelessly and establish himself to the top without stepping on many toes. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Lee Donghyuck had a wily habit of endearing himself to others, and once he latched on, he was an octopus who wouldn’t let go.

As Donghyuck made a rambunctious joke that brought the Rookies to bang their table in laughter, Renjun fought not to roll his eyes. While he could admit that his early distaste of Donghyuck might stem from jealousy, now that he’d actually met him, Donghyuck had given Renjun far more substantial reasons for his disdain—the boy was arrogant, rude and _always_ loud. Renjun had made overtures to like him, but at every turn Donghyuck’s unpleasant personality reared its head.

Renjun really didn’t want to listen to Donghyuck’s annoying voice any more than he had to in the mandatory classes they shared together, so he quickly finished eating his lunch and told the other boys that he was going to go to the convenience store to get some snacks for later. Kun, who had also finished eating, volunteered to join him to pick up some things for the rest.

They made the five-minute trek to the GS-25 that was slightly further away from the company, away from any eagle-eyed fans that might potentially associate them as trainees.

At the convenience store, they bump into Jungwoo, who was sitting pretty at the green plastic table with a spicy pork dosirak, spicy chicken cup ramen, a sausage on a stick, banana milk and a Ghana chocolate bar.

“Renjun-ah, is that all you’re going to eat?” Jungwoo asks, looking at Renjun’s modest triangle kimbap and jasmine tea.

“Yeah, hyung, I already ate at the cafeteria,” Renjun explains, settling down in one of the seats once Kun does the same. “I'm just here with Kun hyung to get some snacks for later.”

“Oh, what did you get, hyung?” Jungwoo looks at Kun’s black plastic bag curiously, as if he doesn’t have a feast in front of him.

“These aren’t for me, it’s for Sicheng and Yukhei,” Kun pulls out bottles of drinks and crisps. “I’m on a diet. I gained weight at my last evaluation. So my manager said I had to lose five kilos by the end of the month.”

Jungwoo says thoughtfully. “What a coincidence that you’re on a diet; my manager told me to go on one too.”

Renjun and Kun look at each other in silence, and Jungwoo chomps on his sausage like he didn’t just nudge the sleeping tiger in the room.

The thing is, everyone knows what’s happening. It’s not subtle when every male trainee’s manager starts micromanaging them, critiquing their monthly evaluation vigorously, and A&R staff suddenly sit-in on regular classes. Everyone knows, but no one talks about it openly like it’s as cursed as Macbeth with the Scottish play.

However, Renjun is too curious for his own good. He’s much closer to Kun (and the other Chinese trainees) than to Jungwoo or other Korean trainees, but he likes to think they are quite friendly. Plus, Jungwoo has a gossip streak a mile long.

“It’s quite a coincidence,” Renjun says lightly. “Doesn’t your manager also manage Dongyoung hyung and Jaehyun hyung?”

Jungwoo’s lips twitch before he lifts his carton of milk to his mouth. “He does. In fact, he also manages Jaemin and Jeno from the Rookies as well.”

Renjun hides a grin, and he’s about to reply when Kun sighs, “Can you guys speak plainly? It’s hard enough for me to understand Korean already.”

Jungwoo glances at Kun guiltily, “Ah, sorry, hyung. I forget sometimes, because you’re so good at Korean.”

Kun raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, and Jungwoo smiles angelically back.

“So?” Renjun prompts. “We all know why the Rookies managers are telling the male trainees to step it up.”

“I’ve been wanting to book a practice room for a while, but my manager kept telling me that they were full, so I looked on the rota and saw that it was consistently booked by the same group.”

“Well, they do need to practice for the Rookies Show,” Renjun says reasonably.

“That’s true, but a few days ago, I was leaving the basement hallway when I heard Donghyuck singing a song I’ve never heard of,” When Jungwoo sees his sceptical expression, he adds, “Plus Donghyuckie looked really shocked when he saw me. And it was just him practising.” He stresses that last bit.

“You think the Rookies are the new boy group and that Donghyuck was practicing the debut song?” Kun clarifies, using the D word fearlessly.

“Well,” Jungwoo shrugs, fiddling with the lip of the milk carton back and forth. “I can’t think of any reason other than that. Why else would they all get so many promotions?”

Renjun can see the gears turning in Kun’s head. “You’re right,” he begins, but whatever he wants to say is cut off when Jungwoo glances at his watch and blanches.

“Oh no, sorry, I got to go,” He stands up, hurriedly collecting his rubbish and throwing it in the bin. “I forgot I was meeting my mom before I had dance practice this evening.”

“See you, hyung,” Renjun waves him off, watching him yank his coat on and then scamper out of the shop.

Kun switches back to Chinese, the syllables falling off his tongue smoother and lower and faster, “Do you want to stay here or shall we head back?”

Renjun looks at his phone and suggests, “Let’s stay for a bit. It’s so suffocating to be in the company.”

That’s all it takes for Kun to return to the topic. “So, what did you think of what Jungwoo said?”

“Well, it does make sense,” Renjun muses. “Just think about the opportunities that the Rookies have had. They're featured a lot on the company's social media. Taeyong and Mark have been on the official YouTube channel since 2013—remember that Tony Testa video?”

“They also have a lot of external opportunities,” Kun notes. “Yuta was on Abnormal Summit as a panellist. Dongyoung and Jaehyun were MCs on Show Champion. The younger Rookies even had their own television show on Disney Channel.”

At the mention of Mickey Mouse Club, Renjun flushes a bit in embarrassment. Now that he is a trainee, he feels rather embarrassed that he got so worked up over the Rookies working with EXO, but he still can’t forget the serendipity of how Mickey Mouse Club brought him to SM. It feels like something that would come out of a movie or drama, not an occurrence in real life.

“The Rookies have been performing everywhere as well,” Renjun adds on. “SMTown concerts since 2014, and they’ve been selling out tickets for the Rookies Show since June and they’re just adding more dates.”

“The company doesn’t invest so much time and effort into the Rookies for nothing… and you’re right, the intensity of the promotions is just increasing,” Kun says as he gathers Renjun’s rubbish and throws it in the bin, and then the two of them start to head out of the convenience store.

“It’s about time as well,” Kun says as they walk side by side back to the company, his eyes on the new SM building. “2016 will be EXO’s fourth year anniversary. And they debuted on SHINEE's four anniversary.”

“I get it for the older trainees,” Renjun says, his breath coming out in puffs. “But don’t you find it strange that they have someone as young as Donghyuck debut? Can you imagine little Jisung debuting? He just graduated from primary school this year! All of the EXO members passed their eighteenth birthday before they debuted.”

“Donghyuck will turn sixteen next year,” Kun says mildly. “There are enough idols who debuted at that age; it isn’t even unusual. As for Jisung—Taemin and Krystal debuted when they were fourteen, and Boa was only thirteen. As long as the company thinks you have what it takes, they don’t care about age. The younger the better, it seems like.”

Renjun thinks of Donghyuck, how he sings and dances and even raps, how he makes everyone laugh and lights up a room. Even though they are the same age, in the same position, Donghyuck is far, far above where Renjun could possibly hope to be.

**2016 February**

Na Jaemin is… interesting, to say the least.

They met at the staircase to the basement practice rooms, en route to the same dance class. Jaemin had made eye contact with him and smiled—Hollywood white and Gangnam perfect—and Renjun hesitantly smiled back.

Jaemin was warm and welcoming from the get-go. Although he introduced Renjun to the other boys in the class, he seemed to realise that their reception wasn’t too friendly. Renjun chalked it up to being a foreigner or a newbie, or both. So, Jaemin had spent most of class speaking to Renjun, and by the end, Jaemin’s Kakaotalk ID was saved on his phone.

Of the Korean trainees that he’s met, Jaemin might be the one that Renjun is closest to. There is an unspoken divide of us versus them with the Koreans and the foreigners, and it’s difficult to bridge the schism. Koreans still dominate the majority of the trainee intake, but the Chinese members are the largest minority, with a strong sense of community. However, even amongst foreign trainees of different nationalities, it’s easier to make friends with them as they share the mutual experience of displacement and subtle discrimination that Koreans don’t feel. But then the Korean trainees think that foreigners only stick together, and so the gap grows wider.

Jaemin isn’t fazed by any of that. He seems to have a penchant for adopting cute things, which he apparently deems Renjun to be. And Renjun wants to befriend him too. No, not just because Jaemin is a Rookies member and he’s a veritable well of insider information… though admittedly, that’s true too.

For Lunar New Year in 2016, Renjun doesn’t return home. Two weeks prior, on January 28th, as Jungwoo overheard and Kun predicted, SM released the teaser for their new boy group—NCT. To absolutely no one’s surprise, the trainees chosen included Taeyong, Hansol, Ten, Jaehyun and Mark, but Renjun’s ears picked up Donghyuck unmistakable husky vocals, a sharp contrast from Taeyong’s voice.

NCT is all everyone has been capable of talking about, ever since all the male trainees were called into their manager’s office and informed that SM was creating a new boy super group. Then, they were sent off to rehearsals to practice choreography for Lee Soo Man’s press conference, where he told stakeholders of SM’s grand plans with their New Culture Technology, the unveiling of SM Station and the debut of NCT. Renjun had been fortunate enough to be chosen as one of the trainees to perform at the press conference, but he too scratched his head understanding the concept of NCT.

Regardless, the debut of the new boy group has caused all the male trainees to go into a frenzy, practicing their hardest just to be noticed by A&R and the top executives.

Jaemin had invited Renjun to eat with him after they finished practice at the company. They were walking along the fairy lights strung gingko-tree lined streets of Garosu-gil. Jaemin wore a cap and a black mask to cover his face, and Renjun thought he only stayed inconspicuous because it was winter.

The barbecue restaurant they had chosen was so bustling that the windows were fogged up. When they entered, the scent of sizzling meat and the heat smacked him in the face, and his stomach growled in hunger. Jaemin, who was next to him, laughed and went to get the attention of the harried server.

The server was a middle-aged woman, a typical ahjumma, but when Jaemin smiled, Renjun could see the effect he had on her. The lines of her face softened and she spoke to him in a kinder manner, and then she personally escorted them to their table instead of pointing in a vague direction like she had done with previous customers. After they sat down, they were offered service before they had even ordered.

Jaemin didn’t even blink an eye; he just smiled prettily and thanked her, who patted him on the shoulder. But that was just the power of Jaemin’s face, a walking advertisement of Lee Soo Man’s flower garden with his large eyes, long lashes, pretty smile and delicate face. He was the kind of person that people would clock as being street casted.

After their meat comes and their immediate hunger is satiated, Jaemin says, “It feels weird to be in the dorms rather than at home for Seollal. You must miss your family.”

Renjun shrugs. He doesn’t like pondering about his parents too much in public. “Doesn’t everyone? No one can afford to go home unless they want to _stay_ home permanently.”

Jaemin wordlessly places a fatty slab of pork belly on Renjun’s plate. “Mark hyung’s home is the practice room now. Donghyuck’s been complaining that he hasn’t seen him in days.”

Renjun raises an eyebrow, “Donghyuck hasn’t been in the practice room in days? He’s there little enough.”

“Donghyuck takes holidays seriously,” Jaemin says easily. “His roommate stresses about practicing enough for the both of them, according to him.”

Renjun fights the urge to roll his eyes, “Well, his voice is in the teaser, so he must think his debut is in the bag. Next we know, we’ll be seeing his solo teaser.” Renjun tacks on a smile so he seems jokingly sarcastic.

“I don’t think any of them are resting easy,” Jaemin says, looking serious. “The concept of NCT is scaring all of them. Manager hyung says—”

Jaemin cuts himself off abruptly and Renjun’s interest is piqued, “What did he say?”

Jaemin looks reluctant to answer, glancing around the restaurant like someone might be listening, “The concept is unlimited members, right? And that more people could be added, but also people can be taken out.”

Renjun leans forwards, his eyes widening in alarm, “You mean just because you’re in NCT doesn’t mean that you’ll always be there promoting?”

“Manager hyung was vague on that,” Jaemin’s lips twist in thought, and he looks worried. “They said the members would fit the concept, so if someone doesn’t fit, they could take him out and put someone new in.”

“What would be worse,” Renjun asks lowly, as if to speak louder was to tempt fate. “That you would debut with NCT and then have to sit out promotions because you’re not fit for it, or to not debut at all and never experience being left out?”

“What kind of question is that?” Jaemin scowls playfully. “Of course, I’d rather debut. At least I’d have gotten a chance to experience it, even if it wasn’t forever. To never have it all… I’d spend the rest of my life wondering and regretting that I didn’t.”

Just then, the waitress comes with the fried rice as the grand finale to their barbeque, and Jaemin becomes too distracted by the food to remember that he didn’t ask Renjun for his answer—for which he is secretly grateful.

Renjun doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but in his mind, he knows which he would prefer.

**2016 April**

On April 8th, NCT U formally debuted with The 7th Sense.

Absolutely no one was surprised that Taeyong was the centre of the debut. When he had shown up with frosty white hair, looking like a high elf from a fantasy movie, his debut was confirmed. Mark Lee, the Golden Boy and Jung Jaehyun, the Prince, were no-brainer choices as well. Then, there was Ten, all feline grace and sly smiles as he coloured moves into something his own.

The biggest shock, however, was seeing Hansol switched out for Dongyoung—henceforth called Doyoung, and the complete removal of Donghyuck’s vocals in the finalised track. It had been suspicious when Doyoung had come to the company with burnished blond hair, but that didn’t necessarily signify an imminent debut. When SM dropped the teaser on April 5th, everyone was bamboozled to see that the last member was Doyoung.

At the company, NCT U’s debut was all people could talk about. The reason for Hansol’s removal from the debut line-up was heavily gossiped, and Renjun listened with a guilty ear despite feeling sorry for him.

After significant hard work, Renjun had advanced in his vocal lessons and starting a few weeks ago, he shared the same class with Donghyuck. Throughout the lesson, Donghyuck didn’t seem to behave any differently than before, even when their vocal instructor had expressed his condolences that Donghyuck’s vocals didn’t appear.

Donghyuck, smiling sunnily and just a bit cheeky, had said, “If they had my voice in, I would have outshone the whole group!” He declares with finger guns, and the instructor just laughs fondly. “All the comments would have asked for me, so it was for the benefit of the hyungs’ that I’m not in it.”

Renjun fights not to roll his eyes; Donghyuck could do anything and the instructors would just shake their heads with exasperated endearment.

He’s obviously fine, singing and laughing like usual, so Renjun feels silly for thinking any different and feeling bad for him. Especially when Hansol has it so much worse. Donghyuck is just fifteen while Hansol is twenty-one—the idol biological clock is ticking for him.

After vocal class, they walk to hip hop together. As soon as they enter the practice room, Donghyuck is immediately embraced by Jeno, Jaemin and even little Jisung, as if he is a widow whose husband hadn’t returned from war. Donghyuck smooches a wet kiss to Jeno’s cheek, messes up Jisung’s hair which sends him squawking, and pats Jaemin on the neck.

Donghyuck is confident and happy, cracking jokes and making an even greater nuisance of himself than usual, and everyone falls over themselves laughing at his jokes like their lives depend on it. There’s no trace of sadness or envy, as far as Renjun can tell. Lee Donghyuck is gracious and luminous and smiles like he knows he’s destined for a bigger, brighter future than NCT U.

Renjun forces himself to focus. Donghyuck is a beloved Rookie with years of experience and opportunities in his belt; Renjun is nothing and he has so much to prove to SM that he deserves his moment under the spotlight. He clears his mind and lets his body dance to the music, following the instructor and learning the choreography, trying to ignore the sharp eyes that analyse his every move.

At lunch, the Rookies’ table—or should he say, NCT U plus friends’ table—is extra rowdy. The newly debuted members make an appearance and all the trainees gather around them, congratulating them like they are war heroes who defeated the enemy despite terrible odds. Which, on second thought, is not a terrible simile to debuting in SM Entertainment.

Mark Lee is stuck to Donghyuck’s side no matter how many people come up to him. From his seat at a nearby table, Renjun sees Mark glance at Donghyuck every once in a while, as if he feels guilty, but Donghyuck just flicks him on the forehead. Donghyuck whispers something in Mark’s ears, scrunching up the lobe with his fingers before releasing it, and Mark laughs loudly, his body half leaning on Donghyuck.

Renjun looks away, grimly satisfied that his assessment was correct. Donghyuck can take care of himself and there’s no reason for him to feel sorry at all.

Generally, Renjun’s daily schedule at the company is constant. He has his assigned lessons in the daytime, and in between classes and after classes until around eight or nine, he practices. But today, he feels an itch beneath his skin and a nagging unease that he hasn’t worked hard enough. Watching Mark debut sparked something in him—reminding him of his own dream. He has come so far already, he can’t just idle away and wait for fortune to favour him. He has to become better. He has to be proactive. Therefore, after dinner, he decides to go back to the company to practice.

There is a practice room that Renjun often uses. It’s on the lowest basement level, close to the men’s toilet that smells like cigarette smoke and is rumoured to be haunted. Perhaps for that reason, it’s typically deserted and so he has always been able to use it to practice without needing to book it. Renjun prefers practicing there while it’s still daytime—he believes in ghosts and he’s not very keen on being visited by one.

With all practice rooms full, Renjun decides that he’ll pluck up the courage to visit his haunted practice room, ghosts or no ghosts.

Though the light in the hallway are on, all the rooms he walks past are dark, and Renjun feels a bit afraid as he walks past them in complete silence.

He peers into the clear panel of the door, finding it empty, and tells himself that there’s nothing to be scared of as he pushes open the door. He abruptly freezes in fear when he hears a voice, singing.

_It was the ghost!!!_

Donghyuck had told him about the ghost who haunted this practice room. He supposedly sang at night, said to be a former trainee who had killed himself after he couldn’t debut, and it was bad luck to see him.

Renjun looks up to see a ghostly white face and screams, his mind yelling at him to _run_ when the overhead light switches on with a click.

“What the hell are you screaming for?”

Wait. That wasn’t a ghost—he knew that voice.

“Lee Donghyuck?” Renjun gasps, sinking to the ground weakly, his heart pounding like it’s trying to escape his chest. He sees Donghyuck’s tanned skin once again as he lowers his phone to his lap.

It was only a trick of the light, he reassures himself, just the white glare from the screen reflected on his face.

“Huang Renjun,” Donghyuck mutters, flicking the light off again.

“Wait, don’t!” Renjun shouts, his heart rate skyrocketing again. “What if the ghost comes out in the dark?” He half crawls, half pulls himself closer to Donghyuck, just in case the ghost attacks them.

Donghyuck makes a sputtering noise, “I’m not afraid of ghosts.”

“Why not” Renjun exclaims in disbelief, near enough to Donghyuck that he could grab him as a shield if need be. “You’re the one who told me about the ghost in this practice room!”

“Did I? Doesn’t sound like me,” Donghyuck says airily. “Why are you here if you’re afraid of the ghost?”

“Because I needed to practice and all the other rooms were full!” Renjun says. “Wait, why are you here then?”

“For the same reason as you?” Donghyuck retorts sarcastically and Renjun narrows his eyes.

“Why would you be practicing here if you were the one who told me and the other newbies that this room is haunted?” Donghyuck remains silent, and Renjun suddenly recalls Jungwoo months ago telling him that he heard Donghyuck practicing in this very practice room. Renjun starts to put the puzzles pieces together.

“You! There’s no ghost, is there?” Beside him, he can feel Donghyuck huffing and Renjun realises that he’s laughing. Outraged, he continues, “You lied to all the newbies about a ghost haunting this practice room because you wanted to reserve it for yourself! There’s never been any ghost!”

Donghyuck laughs for real and despite the darkness, Renjun can see the lump that is Donghyuck shaking. “You’re unbelievable! You selfish jerk!”

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck’s voice drips with merriment and no remorse. “I made up the story, but I didn’t expect it to go this far. This SM building is new, if there was any dead trainee, it would have made the news. I didn’t expect anyone would believe it, honestly. Once they did though, it was pretty convenient for me.”

“You were having fun at the new trainees’ expense,” Renjun says sourly, pressing a hand over his heart, feeling it finally start to beat steadily.

“I didn’t expect you all to be so gullible!” Donghyuck protests. “It’s not my fault you lack common sense!”

“Yah, turn on the lights,” Renjun scowls, feeling offended. If he argues any more, he might actually hit Donghyuck’s doughy face and Renjun is too good to lower himself to violence. He fumbles around the back wall for the light switch. “I’m here to practice.”

“Wait, don’t—” Just as Renjun has his hand over the light switch, Donghyuck grabs his arm and pulls it away firmly. Renjun, who hadn’t expected Donghyuck to tackle him this way, shoves him back.

“What is your problem?” He snaps, pushing Donghyuck’s hands he tries to prevent Renjun from turning on the light.

“I was here _first_ and I want the lights off!” Donghyuck says snottily. “You can leave if you don’t like it!”

In the ensuing scuffle, he ‘accidentally’ elbows Donghyuck in the stomach which causes him to fall over with an ‘oof’, leaving Renjun to flick the lights on victoriously.

They groan simultaneously at the brightness, and Donghyuck mutters pettily, “Told you so.”

Just for that, Renjun blinks rapidly to adjust to the light and turns to Donghyuck, only to lose his train of thought. “Are you crying?” He blurts out.

Donghyuck looks uglier than usual with bloodshot eyes and a red nose. He turns his head away, avoiding Renjun’s gaze pointedly, “No. I’m not.”

Renjun hovers over Donghyuck uncertainly. On one hand, they’re not close; they don’t even really like each other. On the other hand, Renjun is a good person. Is he going to let the fact that it’s _Donghyuck_ prevent him from being morally right?

“Why are you crying?” He asks, sitting down next to Donghyuck, who peeks out with his head between his knees.

“I’m not,” Donghyuck insists grouchily. “Can’t you go away? I was here first.”

Renjun scowls; Donghyuck makes it difficult to be nice. “Is it because you didn’t get to debut with NCT U?”

“No!” Donghyuck denies. “I was never in the U line-up at all.”

“So you’re not upset that your voice wasn’t in the final version of The 7th Sense?” Donghyuck stiffens and Renjun feels a bit of guilty pleasure at being vindicated.

“I knew I wasn’t going to debut with U, I recorded the song back in December but I never learnt the choreography,” He mutters, sounding sulky. “I just thought they might use my voice in the end… as backing vocals or something, even if they had Doyoung hyung.”

“It’s not Doyoung hyung’s fault, though,” Renjun tries to sound understanding. “Look, don’t be upset. At least you knew you weren’t going to debut. Imagine how bad Hansol hyung feels having been in the January teaser and learning the choreography only to be axed at the very end.”

Donghyuck looks at him sharply, his tongue poking his cheek, “I never said I blamed Doyoung hyung. And do you think I don’t feel bad for Hansol hyung?”

“Why are you being short with me?” Renjun snaps. “Look, these are facts: Hansol hyung was so close. Johnny hyung has been here for eight years and still hasn’t debuted. All I’m saying is it could have been much worse for someone in your position.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Donghyuck says heatedly, turning to look at Renjun angrily. “You haven’t even been here for a year. You don’t know shit about anything.”

Renjun smiles, because Donghyuck is so very wrong if he thinks Renjun doesn’t know him. “I know enough. I know you don’t practice enough to need a practice room for yourself. I know you took two weeks off every holiday except this Seollal. I know you sleep in and go to PC bang on weekends.”

“Are you calling me lazy and untalented?” Donghyuck turns red, his fists clenched.

That makes him laugh, which results in Donghyuck standing up in fury, clearly taking it the wrong way.

“I said what I said about your work ethic is. But talent? Come on, you shouldn’t fish for compliments.” Renjun says breezily, downplaying it.

Donghyuck sits down reluctantly, looking at him suspiciously, “You’re weird, Huang Renjun. Are you saying that I’m talented?”

“You bragged that you passed the toughest auditions in company history. You starred on a TV show as a trainee. You performed on stage and sang on NCT’s teaser song. All by the age of sixteen. Don’t tell me your ego lets you believe that you’re freakishly lucky instead of crazy talented.” It pains Renjun to even have to say this out loud. Curse himself for being a good person.

“Huh,” Donghyuck hums thoughtfully. “Maybe you do know me.”

It takes Renjun a beat before he realises that Donghyuck is being sassy. He rolls his eyes, their dynamic is back to normal once again.

“You talk about yourself a whole lot,” He grumbles but with less heat than usual. “So, what were you doing in the practice room?”

“You already know what I was doing here,” Donghyuck huffs, his lips forming into an unconscious pout. “I was trying to practice singing, but…”

“You started crying instead?”

“Shut up! You don’t know—”

“You got reminded of the teaser,” Renjun supplies.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says, defeated. He clears his throat, glancing at his phone for the time, “You said you wanted to practice, right? I’ll share with you.”

“Wow, thank you for your generosity,” Renjun deadpans, only realising after Donghyuck gives him a look that this is him trying to make amends. “Fine, thanks.” He says without enthusiasm.

“What were you about to practice?”

“Singing,” Renjun replies, and then he looks at Donghyuck meaningfully.

“What are you waiting for?” He says, waving a hand imperiously. “Sing!”

“You’re still here!” Renjun says obviously. “Aren’t you going to…” he gestures for the door.

“I said I’d share, not leave. Anyways, I’ve heard you sing before in vocal class,” Donghyuck says, matter of fact. “Besides, you want to be an idol, don’t you? You’ll have to sing in front of people eventually.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts!” Donghyuck tilts his head to look at Renjun’s side. “You don’t even have one anyways! So sing!”

“What?” Renjun squawks, placing a hand over his butt protectively. “You! You’re unbelievable!”

“You said that before. Unbelievable and talented, according to you,” Donghyuck says smugly, smiling that patented Lee Donghyuck smile that Renjun had seen him direct to everyone, and now finally to him. “Come on, sing for me.”

“I suppose if your tips were good enough to make Doyoung hyung debut ahead of you, maybe you’ll know a thing or two,” Renjun says sweetly, and Donghyuck raises an eyebrow at the dig.

He narrows his eyes in response, “I thought you were supposed to be innocent and pure; what bullshit.”

**2016 August**

There is happiness in being busy, Renjun finds. There is happiness in dyeing his hair, attending painful dermatologist appointments, practicing and falling over and practicing again, only managing a few hours of sleep.

There is happiness because Huang Renjun—16, from Jilin, China—is going to debut!!

Years’ worth of progress had happened in the past two months. For Renjun, it felt like mere days ago when his manager nearly gave him a heart attack, telling him to pack his bags and vacate the trainee dorms. He’d barely held his tears back before the man beamed, telling him he was moving into the artists’ dorm because Renjun was going to debut in a new NCT subunit.

At that point, Renjun felt he was completely justified in bursting into tears—he was overwhelmed.

Being in the new dorm took some time to get used to. Instead of Sicheng, he was with Chenle, a young boy from Shanghai who had the dazzling fortune of being handpicked for debut. Chenle spoke more English than Korean, and as the only person in the dorm who spoke Chinese, Renjun was tasked with acclimatising him.

Renjun had felt fortunate in being chosen to debut with less than a year of training, but after listening to Chenle, he genuinely thought that the boy’s life story was fictional. No one could possibly be a silver spoon, a child musical prodigy and then get headhunted for SM Entertainment in real life—surely this was a drama plot.

It was probably fitting, then, that Chenle’s first day at the company reached Hollywood levels of absurdity. There had been a buzz that SM had specifically chosen a Chinese trainee who was already a famous child star. After Renjun and the other Chinese trainees had been introduced to Chenle by his trainee manager, Donghyuck had entered the practice room uninvited, flounced over to the piano, and played Tonghua unprompted. When he finished, he bowed shortly in front of Chenle, and said, “Me, Donghyuck.”

Before anyone could recover their composure, Donghyuck sauntered off, and Chenle’s manager had to try to explain the complexity that was Lee Donghyuck, and no, not all trainees in SM were like him.

If Chenle’s first meeting with Donghyuck was weird, then his introduction to Park Jisung was just an outlandish exercise of fate.

When the seven of them were gathered for the first meeting of NCT Dream, typically shy and timid Park Jisung gasped after being introduced to Chenle and pointed at him in shock.

“You—you’re the boy at the Chinese concert! The iPod!!”

Jisung clapped his hands together, looking more bright-eyed and convinced than ever, as if he wasn’t speaking utter gibberish. “Renjun hyung,” Jisung looked at him pleadingly. “Tell him in Chinese!”

Renjun glanced at Chenle, who looked utterly bemused, and interpreted Jisung’s words.

Immediately, Chenle squealed, emitting a high-pitched noise that caused Renjun to jolt, and he grinned from ear to ear and pointed right back at Jisung, “The International Children’s Concert in 2011 Beijing! You were the dancer, right? You had the same iPod as mine!”

Jisung nodded immediately, not even listening to Renjun’s interpretation, understanding Chenle’s enthusiastic body language. When Chenle reached out a hand, Jisung met him halfway, and instead of a handshake, they did some weird finger clasp/fight that Renjun didn’t understand at all. It must have been an inside joke for them, because then Chenle opened his arms, and the affection wary Jisung hugged him excitedly.

Looking at them—Mark, Jeno, Donghyuck, Jaemin, and Jisung—the original Rookies who everyone thought would debut as a unit together, Renjun thought how he might not have been here if not for them. He thought about how Chenle had already met Jisung beforehand and how they were drawn back together after all this time.

They had yuanfen—they were drawn inexorably together through an innate connection in the universe. Their natural affinity for each other, the way they got along so well despite the language barrier—there was no other explanation. Somehow, both Chenle and Renjun ended up in SM, having known and met some of the Rookies already. How could he possibly not believe in yuanfen when the evidence was stacked in front of him?

Watching the two youngest babble excitedly, his attention fell on Donghyuck staring at them with abject fascination and curiosity. Maybe it was the contagious feeling of fated meetings but Renjun was suddenly struck by the strange desire to tell him that he crossed the Yellow Sea because of him. He bit down on the impulse, certain that it would only come out weird. He couldn’t stand the thought of opening up something so personal to him only to be mocked by Donghyuck.

Renjun liked the name NCT Dream. Being a singer had been his unchanging dream since he was a child, and it felt fitting that it was epitomised into his group name. NCT Dream was the youth unit of NCT, supposedly to ‘encourage teenagers to have hope and dreams through their songs’. It was a touching sentiment, though personally, he has no idea how Chewing Gum was relevant to the discussion… but that was beside the point.

Singing and recording the song in the studio, learning the choreography in the cloud painted practice room, attending styling sessions, dyeing his hair brown—it hadn’t really felt _real_ , because it was all things he had done before. It wasn’t until Renjun saw their debut teaser being released to the public—the one that actually featured him as a real member—did he realise it was serious. It was overwhelming, to think that his life was going to change in a significant way. And yet, he didn’t yet feel changed at all.

The music video for Chewing Gum was soon to be released and he would be on national television for the first time. Before the last vestiges of normality were gone, Renjun took the small break the managers allowed them, wanting to be alone from the noise and furore.

He walked out of the building and he was too tired to go anywhere far so his legs brought him outside GS-25. There were some seats outside, but other than an old man reading further away, no one else was dumb enough to sit in the August heat, and so he was left unbothered, staring blankly at the sky.

It was funny how Renjun still felt the same even as everything had changed around him. A year ago, he was at home, staring at the full moon—having no idea that he would be amongst the ranks of the Rookies he was obsessing over, let alone that he would debut with them.

Something icy presses against his skin and he jerks upright, yelping at the sudden coldness. He glares at the offender, and Lee Donghyuck grins unabashedly back at him, holding a drink.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” He asks, cracking open the seal and taking a long swig. “I saw you when I walked into the shop and you didn’t even notice me standing right in front of your face.”

“It’s nothing,” Renjun mutters, glancing at Donghyuck, who hands him the open bottle. “How’d you convince the managers to let you go?”

“You don’t like Pocari Sweat?” Donghyuck asks, observing the minute grimace on Renjun’s face before he had carefully poured it down his throat.

“It’s fine,” he demurs, not wanting to explain that it wasn’t the drink but the fact that it was Donghyuck. His mouth had been at the lip of the bottle—it was like an indirect kiss. _Gross_. “I generally get Milkis or tea.”

“Well, free is free,” Donghyuck replies cheerfully, taking back his drink. “Anyways, I didn’t get permission. Jeno said he would cover me if I got him something from the shop, so it’s all good.”

“You should be more careful,” Renjun warns. “You’re not exactly an unknown face.”

“I’m not some big hotshot idol like the EXO hyungs,” Donghyuck grins, “though that would be nice. Anyways, I’m just getting some triangle kimbap and a drink, not bottles of soju. Hardly worth noticing.”

“I guess,” Renjun says, looking back at the full moon.

Not a moment later, a finger nudges against his cheek, and he looks at Donghyuck expectantly, who just smiles at him, “So. You nervous about the debut?”

Renjun blinks. He occurs to him that Donghyuck is making small talk. He doesn’t usually bother. Donghyuck’s busy with 127 promotions and practice, so when he comes to Dream, it's for work reasons. And then Jeno monopolises Donghyuck’s attention and Renjun has his hands full with Chenle. Combine that with the fact that Donghyuck dorms with 127, resulting in that he doesn’t really speak to Renjun unnecessarily.

“Aren’t you?” He shoots back. “Or does the great Lee Haechan never get nervous?”

Donghyuck scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. He still seems to be getting used to his name, the only one in NCT to have the privilege of a special stage name—and one that was bestowed by the legendary Lee Soo Man, himself.

“I couldn’t sleep after the MV dropped,” He says, smoothing away beads of sweat on his forehead. “I stayed up all night with Mark hyung reading comments and watching it over and over again.”

“We’re singing about chewing gum on hoverboards,” Renjun says wryly.

“127 was singing about fire trucks and hosing people down, so,” Donghyuck challenges, raising an eyebrow. “No matter how dumb the song is, it’s ours now.”

“And only we can make fun of it?”

“Exactly,” Donghyuck bumps shoulders with Renjun, grinning conspiratorially.

“We’ll do okay,” He says, with the self-assurance of a boy who has never been rejected, the naïve self-confidence of a child. “We’re all in this together.”

Renjun bites his lip before he sings the tune from High School Musical, and the resulting laugh that comes from Donghyuck is nothing short of delighted.

He mumbles some of the lyrics, “… we’re all stars and we see that—”

“We’re all in this together and it shows when we stand—”

Donghyuck stands up, grabbing Renjun’s hand, “Hand-in-hand, make our dreams come true!”

He raises both of their hands high over their heads, grinning at Renjun brightly, and then together they both take a bow at the same time, the full moon as their witness.

The bell chimes from the convenience store door and the man who leaves the shop gives them a weird look; Donghyuck looks at Renjun, his eyes twinkling, and as soon as the man walks further away they both burst into helpless laughter.

“He must think we’re crazy,” Donghyuck gets out, clutching Renjun’s shoulders as he laughs.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, but you definitely are!”

Donghyuck tries valiantly to look offended, but his smile keeps appearing unbidden, “Too bad for you, you’re stuck with me now!”

“However will I survive?” Renjun smiles, looking at Donghyuck.

He doesn’t let go of his hand.

**2017 February**

Life is cruel, Renjun thinks, as he sits on Jaemin’s empty bed.

He had known idol life was not sunshine and daisies, but he thought debuting officially would have been the end of true hardship and uncertainty. Turns out, getting to debut was the battle won, but just the start of a decade long war where the opponent would get stronger and more difficult to fight.

NCT Dream is in its infancy—they haven’t even had their 100 days together before Jaemin disappeared on medical hiatus.

A herniated disc in his spine. This _ailment_ was supposed to be caused by ageing, extreme exercise, or being extremely careless lifting heavy objects. All Jaemin had done was hurt himself speed skating and then again while dancing.

Jaemin was young—he was so scared when he had collapsed in practice and the panicked managers could not lift him without making him cry out in pain. When the members were finally allowed to visit him in hospital, seeing Jaemin on the bed, flanked by his worried parents, brought home just how young he was.

Being an idol was an exercise in being a pseudo adult who had to take responsibility for all their actions and being a child who had no liberty of their own. Parental responsibility for underaged idols had transferred from parents to managers. It was easy to forget that their parents were technically still in charge of them when they spent all day listening to their managers instead. Seeing Jaemin with his parents was a harsh reminder that he was just sixteen; he did not own his bodily autonomy, even if they felt like adults by earning money, paying taxes or working late.

After the doctor had told them his diagnosis, Jaemin’s face had crumbled, Jeno had gone scarily blank, and Jisung started crying. Chenle had clutched his hand, not comprehending the Korean but instinctively knowing that it was bad, and Renjun, whose Korean didn’t extend to medical terms, only picked up on ‘no dancing for the foreseeable future’.

And that was that.

Physical injury did not respect three years of hard work and dedication, it did not care about a boy’s hopes and dreams, it did not consider people’s goodness or character. It was just bad luck, pure and simple.

Jaemin had protested, because he was an idol and how could he possibly not dance, but even hooked up on strong painkillers, sitting upright had pained him. If he could not even sit, how could he even dance?

His parents were worried and upset for their son, but there was little they could do. Between their acceptance of the doctor’s advice and a conversation with the managers’ that Renjun was not privy to, they took Jaemin back to Incheon, and his room was deserted.

(Jisung, who had been Jaemin’s roommate since he’d first entered the company, was so distraught by Jaemin’s hiatus that he unofficially moved into Jeno and Renjun’s room).

Renjun didn’t know what was in store for Jaemin’s future; Jaemin, probably, didn’t even know himself.

The doctor was hesitant in putting an exact timeframe on Jaemin’s recovery, but it was very apparent that he would not be healed in a few months, and it was clear early on that the company would not be willing to wait.

The dust had not yet begun to gather on Jaemin’s sheets before they were informed that Dream was having a comeback with the remaining six of them.

The show must go on and companies like SM did not invest so much on training and marketing just to lose momentum and wait for a wayward member’s return.

SM was not so insensitive to terminate Jaemin’s contract just because he was injured, but there were force majeure clauses that would entitle the company to break his contract through no fault of his own if there was an extraordinary event. A herniated disc that took him out of performing his idol obligations for a year certainly qualified as an extraordinary event.

Renjun worried. Jaemin couldn’t sing like Donghyuck, or rap like Mark, or even dance like Jisung. Jeno could probably even replace his spot as visual. He had been in the group for less than 3 months—in practical terms, he was entirely replaceable. The company could get rid of him with no noticeable gaps; it would be as if he had never existed. New fans would forget him, life would move on. He would be reduced to a footnote in a page of Dream’s history. It nauseated Renjun to think about and the conclusion he kept returning back to was that if, in a year or so, Jaemin was not any better—considered unfit to be an idol—then his contract could be terminated.

“Hey,” Donghyuck stands in the doorway, wearing Jeno’s pyjamas and with wet hair. “Crying on Valentine’s Day? You sad you don’t have a Valentine? Come here, I’ll kiss you!” He approaches, puckering his lips, wrapping his octopus limbs around Renjun.

“Ew,” He jabs his pointy elbow into the soft part of Donghyuck’s tummy, making him yowl like a cat. “You’re the last person I would ask for a kiss!”

“You’ll regret that,” Donghyuck pouts, rubbing his stomach and looking at Renjun balefully. “I’m a great kisser, I’ll have you know. I’ve never had any complaints.”

“As if your mother would willingly destroy your self-esteem,” Renjun teases sweetly.

“You’re a gremlin, Huang Renjun,” Donghyuck huffs, offended, but he still shifts closer to him on Jaemin’s bed. “It’s okay, we’re all single here.”

“I should hope so,” He sniffs, trying to discreetly wipe his face. “We have dating bans. And who would want to date you anyways?”

“I’ll have you know that my fans would be very happy to go on dates with me,” Donghyuck holds up a finger, stopping Renjun from speaking, “and before you start, I _do_ have fans. Especially since we did win first place and all.”

Renjun tries to snark but sniffles, hurriedly pressing a hand over his face to cover his tracks, but Donghyuck has already heard. He sighs, half considerate, “Are you competing with Jisung to be the biggest cry-baby in the group since the win?”

“You’re one to talk,” Renjun huffs, poking a finger into Donghyuck’s side. “You cried too!”

“Only because of you,” He insists. “I told you, I didn’t cry until I saw you crying. Your face was as red as your hair. I cried seeing how ugly you looked.”

He laughs, half wanting to cry again, so he hits Donghyuck on the arm, “Shut up! Ever look into the mirror?”

“Ah well,” Donghyuck blinks innocently. “I wasn’t street casted! It’s my voice that they liked.”

Renjun draws back, scowling, “Stop laughing at my voice crack!”

“It’s cute,” Donghyuck laughs. “ _Geurae naegen neoppuniyaaa_!” He extends the last syllable of the word, voice cracking deliberately, and Renjun smacks him again.

“Stop it!” He tries to sound stern but he can’t help laughing, wiping at his face. “Everyone was laughing at me! I was in emotional distress… not everyone can sound like a CD effortlessly!”

When Donghyuck doesn’t laugh, he looks up to see him frowning slightly. “Are you- I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What?” Renjun asks, bemused. “Donghyuck, you’re the Main Vocal in Dream for a reason.”

“You’re good too,” Donghyuck says, strangely uncomfortable when he would usually have no qualms bragging. “Jaemin said you came into the company through dance, and you’ve had less than a year of training but you’re still the Lead Vocal.”

“I—” Renjun is unused to compliments, feels uneasy at praise. His first instinct is to point out his flaws. “You’re still better. Your voice is much more stable, and it’s unique. I don’t know how the company wants me to sing your lines when you’re with 127, it’s impossible.”

“And you think I could fill in your lines?”

“Well,” Their vocal colours are vastly different, but the principle is the same. “Yeah. It wouldn’t be very hard for you to replace me. I don’t have that many lines anyways.”

Donghyuck stares at him for a long time and Renjun resists the urge to squirm. His eyes are red and scratchy, his nose feels stuffed, and he knows his face is ruddy from crying—he doesn’t want Donghyuck to look at him in such an ugly, vulnerable state.

“I can’t replace you,” He says, his voice casual but his word choice deliberate. “We’re a team and each of us are irreplaceable. I can’t sing your lines, and I certainly can’t fill your spot in dancing. So don’t go thinking that.”

He pauses, considering Renjun before he adds in a lighter tone, “I don’t trust Jeno and Jaemin not to drop me in Chewing Gum.”

Donghyuck is hardly his friend. They are co-workers, bandmates, but friends? From the beginning, it’s been Mark and Donghyuck against the world. Renjun has Chenle to mind, Jeno… well, he _had_ Jaemin. They don't need each other the same way. But somehow, it makes it easier to believe what Donghyuck is saying because of it. Since he isn’t Renjun's friend, Donghyuck wouldn’t try to ply him with false compliments. So maybe that’s why Renjun feels so affected.

“They probably couldn’t even lift you off the hoverboard,” Renjun clears his throat, using humour to deflect his discomfort. “I pity the 127 hyungs for having to support your fat ass in Fire Truck.”

“This is a great ass, and I won’t be slandered,” He declares, and Renjun rolls his eyes as the usual inflated ego returns. “And what good are the hyungs if they can’t even lift little ole me?”

“Does it feel weird for you to win with Dream and not 127?” Renjun asks, after a moment’s hesitation.

“I win either way, it doesn't matter with me,” Donghyuck declares. “127 will get their wins too. I’m happy that Dream got their first win, and 127 is happy too.”

“ _Our_ first win,” Renjun repeats, still in quiet disbelief.

“Dream’s first win,” Donghyuck says, squeezing his hand. “It belongs to all seven of us.”

“You’ll think he’ll be back?”

Donghyuck looks at Jaemin’s oversized Ryan plush-doll left behind on his pillow side and smiles wryly, “Na Jaemin’s a stubborn bastard. He’s a Leo through and through—there’s no way he can survive living out of the spotlight now that he’s had a taste. He’ll be back to poison all our food with coriander before you know it.”

There’s a knock on the door and Renjun looks up to see Jeno, bespectacled and dressed down in an oversized hoodie. “I’m making tea. Do you guys want some?” He offers.

“Nah, I should head up to my room before Doyoung hyung comes down to get me,” Donghyuck stands up. At the doorway, he turns to Jeno and presses a smooch—a wet smacking kiss—against Jeno’s cheek with a grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, No Jam!”

Donghyuck scurries away and Jeno tries to chase him down, but there’s no sound of impact before the beeping of the front door opening. Jeno returns to the room shortly after, holding his slipper in one hand with a huff.

Renjun asks, “No luck with the pest?”

“No,” He drops his slipper to the floor and slides his foot in. “I was going to share my jellies with him, but now we’re going to finish them all to spite him. Do you want some tea?”

Renjun nods and follows him to the kitchen silently, where Jeno busies himself with the kettle. Renjun takes a seat on the sofa and barely manages to catch the flying object thrown into his face—the sour sweets that Renjun is addicted to, and Jeno returns with two mugs.

Renjun takes his mug of tea, sniffing the fragrance, “Oh, good choice. Jasmine is my favourite.”

“I know,” Jeno’s eyes curve into half-moons as he smiles. “Jaemin told me.”

“How is he?” Renjun processes this, wondering when they had spoken about him and what they had said.

“You just spoke to him today,” Jeno points out, biting into a sweet.

After they had won, they had immediately called Jaemin on FaceTime in the dressing room, but they had been beaten to the punch as he had already sent several congratulatory texts. Jaemin had been watching the live broadcast. He was all smiles and cheesy messages as he said how proud he was of them.

“I just feel bad, you know,” Renjun admits, taking a small sip of tea. “I’m happy to win because we worked so hard, but I feel guilty that we’re winning without him. And I can’t imagine how he feels,” He gives Jeno a long look, “He smiles, but Jaemin would probably even smile while getting beat up, so.”

Jeno snorts, “You make him sound like a psychopath,” he chews on another sweet before saying, “some days are better than others. You know he’s doing physical therapy. Those days are the worst because he’s in pain and he won’t answer the phone.”

“How does he feel?” Renjun asks, taking one of the sour sweets. “He never talks about how he feels when I ask. He’s always fine, doing better, okay. How does he _really_ feel?”

“He doesn’t tell me either.”

“You’re his best friend,” Renjun states plainly. Just like Mark has Donghyuck, Chenle has Jisung, Jaemin has Jeno. “You know him better than anyone else in this group.”

“Jaemin’s very good at talking a lot without saying anything,” Jeno sighs, looking down into his mug. “He won’t talk to me about how he really feels. It’s complicated.”

“And how do you feel?”

Jeno looks up, wide-eyed. He looks like a lost puppy, and he makes a confused sound, “Me?”

“Your best friend is on indefinite hiatus,” Renjun says lightly. “How do you feel?”

If Jaemin has Jeno, then the reverse can also be true. Donghyuck still has Mark, Jisung has Chenle, and Jeno has no one. Renjun can relate—he’s had no one for a long time.

Jeno’s quiet for a beat and Renjun is about to move on, but then he says, “Sometimes, I’m doing something, and I expect him to be clinging to me, but he’s not, and I remember why,” He smiles self-deprecatingly, looking like an abandoned puppy. “I make it sound like he's dead, but…”

Renjun scoots closer to him, wanting to offer comfort but not knowing how. He had become close to Jeno these past few months through being his roommate. Jeno took longer to warm up to people than Jaemin did. Renjun’s initial impression that Jeno was scary because of his habit of glaring was entirely unfounded—he just had bad eyesight. Renjun considered them friends but talking about personal emotions was still something new for them.

“You two have been together practically every single day for four years. You came into the company on the same day, you were desk mates at school—missing him is to be expected when you’ve grown used to him being your shadow,” Renjun says, placing his hand on Jeno’s. “It’s okay to feel lonely and upset.”

Jeno squeezes his hand, “It’s no use talking to the kids, and Mark hyung and Hyuck are so busy—”

“I know I’m not a substitute for him, but I’m here if you want to talk.”

Jeno stares at him for a moment before his expression clears, comprehension dawning on him, and Jeno is hugging him, “It’s just like NCT Life again. Us against the world, eh?”

“Yeah,” Renjun smiles. “Who else will take care of the kids?”

“Jaemin will be back,” Jeno says certainly. “And it’ll be all seven of us again.”

“It’s funny; Donghyuck said the same thing.”

“Did he?” Jeno smiles, the corner of his lips lifting. “Then it must be true.”

“Oh?”

“Just a tip: never bet against Lee Donghyuck. He always comes out right in the end,” Jeno grimaces then, his nose wrinkling. “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

**2017 September**

When Donghyuck starts to stay over at the Dream dorm, Renjun begins to suspect something is not right.

Initially, he hadn’t thought anything of it. NCT Dream was about to comeback with We Young; it was common for Donghyuck and Mark to stay over to make it easier for the managers to pick everyone up. But this time only Donghyuck had been sleeping over. This in itself wasn’t necessarily alarming; he liked to play video games with Jeno till the early hours of the morning, so he often crashed in their dorm.

But when Donghyuck has his set of toiletries in the bathroom, his clothes slotted neatly in one of Jeno’s dresser drawers, and his phone charger by Jeno’s bed, Renjun begins to have doubts. Donghyuck is in Jeno’s bed far too often for this to be a temporary thing.

Donghyuck comes over to the Dream dorm with a bag of snacks he says he snatched from Doyoung’s mini fridge, another time he recommends a candle that Doyoung bought to improve the scent of Renjun’s room because it did wonders for his. Without Donghyuck actually saying so, Renjun suspects that Mark and him are no longer roommates, and had switched with Jaehyun and Doyoung.

Arguments between Mark and Donghyuck were commonplace. Mark was Dream’s Leader, but Donghyuck was opinionated and confrontational, so the two clashed all the time and no one batted an eye. They fought, Mark stormed off, Donghyuck sulked, then a few hours later Mark would slink back with Donghyuck’s favourite snack, or Donghyuck would find him and tease him like they hadn’t yelled hours prior.

Therefore, when Jeno first mentioned off-handedly that Mark and Donghyuck were fighting, Renjun hadn’t paid it much thought. They fought at least once every fortnight; it was part and parcel of their friendship. However, with Donghyuck practically moved into their room, Renjun begins to feel concerned.

It’s not that Donghyuck is unwelcome; all in all, he’s a pleasant roommate. His limitless talent extends to the household. He cooks meals that are not instant without supervision required. He cleans up after himself without being strongly asked to for the fifth time (no, Renjun does not _nag_ ). Renjun remembers that Donghyuck is the eldest of four children when he is even able to coax Jisung and Chenle into doing _some_ chores.

Despite that, seeing Donghyuck sitting in Jeno’s bed wearing his clothes for a week in a row is concerning, not just least because Jeno owns a single bed which isn’t meant to hold two growing teenage boys, and this bedroom is too crowded for the four of them.

He raises the issue with Jeno when Donghyuck is showering and Jisung is watching a movie with Chenle in the living room. “What’s up with Donghyuck?”

“Hmm?” Jeno looks up from his mobile game, so immersed in playing that he hadn’t heard. After Renjun repeats himself, Jeno scrunches his nose. “Hyuck won’t tell me.”

“What could have been so bad that made him move into our dorm?” Renjun muses. “And have you noticed—Donghyuck always looks at Mark hyung, but he won’t look back.”

Jeno frowns, putting down his phone, “Hyuck’s trying very hard to make amends, but Mark hyung ignores him or gets angrier at him. I don’t like it.”

“Donghyuck must have done something,” Renjun ponders. “Hyung never gets angry. It’s worse than usual.”

“Hyuckie tries too hard because he cares too much, but he’s not mean or annoying,” Jeno says firmly. “If Hyuck made a mistake, he would own up to it and apologise. Doyoungie hyung said that they’ve been fighting since Cherry Bomb. They even fought at the airport last week. It’s been too long for Mark hyung to punish Hyuck.”

“ _Cherry Bomb_? That’s more than a month ago!” Renjun repeats in disbelief. “But how can we help him if he won’t tell us anything?”

“This is something between them. Hyuck must have his reasons for not telling us and we should respect that. If Hyuck is being punished, we should be there for him rather than pushing him to tell us if he’s not comfortable.”

This is a side of Jeno that Renjun has never seen before. Jeno isn’t a particularly expressive person with many words, and one could almost think that he didn’t notice much. At that moment, Renjun feels that Jeno is wiser than he ever thought.

“Is that why you let him cling to you at all times of the day?”

Jeno flashes him his signature eye smile, the one that could melt Arctic ice, “Hyuckie loves skinship, it makes him feel reassured. And I think he could use more of that now. It’s not a burden to love Hyuck.”

“You really do love him.”

“He’s my best friend,” Jeno says simply, and perhaps it was. “When he’s upset, I’m upset too. I want to cheer him up. Because I know he’d do the same and more for me. Just like he’d do to you—for any of us.”

It’s almost childish in its simplicity, but Jeno’s sincerity is undoubtedly true. Renjun finds himself grateful that he has Jeno as a friend and bandmate.

Somehow, hearing that Mark and Donghyuck have been fighting since Cherry Bomb promotions puts things into perspective. Back in June, when 127 and Dream went to Jeju for the SMTown Workshop, Donghyuck was supposed to share a room with Mark, but he often came over to Renjun and Jeno’s room instead.

Renjun hadn't thought much of it because Donghyuck was going through a slew of back-to-back 127 schedules, so it was understandable that he wanted to spend time with Jeno when he could. Perhaps it should have been obvious when he lingered in their shared room even when Jeno had gone to hang out with Doyoung, but Renjun thought that Donghyuck was there to annoy him.

In retrospect, Renjun might have been a bit standoffish. He recalls how Donghyuck tried to start a conversation with him about Jeju since he had lived on the island for years, and Renjun’s replies were so lacklustre that he couldn’t even remember what he said.

In fact, the only time Renjun was nice was when Sicheng texted him, asking him to come out to the hotel gardens, and he extended an invitation to Donghyuck because it seemed rude to leave him behind. He hadn’t expected Donghyuck to accept, but Sicheng seemed happy enough to see them, so Renjun sucked it up.

They were all sitting around chatting when suddenly Donghyuck pulled him to the ground. Renjun was initially annoyed at being interrupted and manhandled, only to go speechless.

It was the most spectacular sight he had ever seen. The sky was a deep inky blue with countless silver stars speckled across the entire horizon, clear and bright and winking, as far as the eye could see.

Donghyuck grabbed his hand all of a sudden, “Look!” he pointed, as a shooting star shot across the night sky.

The meteor gleamed bright as it raced across the horizon, illuminating the sky briefly before it burnt out. When it disappeared, he realised he was still holding hands with Donghyuck. He turned, but when he found Donghyuck with his eyes closed like he was making a wish, Renjun went quiet and let him be.

Afterwards, as they headed back, Renjun remarked, “Ah, it’s a shame that Jeno didn’t get to see this.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who likes to stargaze, right? Back when you lived at your grandma’s house?”

“Oh yeah,” Renjun had replied, taken aback that Donghyuck had actually paid attention to some of his inane ramblings about stars, space and aliens. “The streetlights always went out, so the stars used to guide me to walk back home safely.” Suddenly, he realised how backwards and country bumpkin he sounded, so he quickly clarified, “My grandma lives in the countryside, so sometimes the electricity gets cut off.”

Donghyuck didn’t make fun of his family’s humble roots like he expected. “That sounds nice. I remember being so fascinated when I was able to see stars after we first moved here. It’s something I miss now living in Seoul—that, and the sea,” he smiled nostalgically. “Do you have a favourite constellation?”

“I like Ursa Major, the one with the Big Dipper,” Renjun answered, pointing to the sky. “It looks like a bear.”

After that, he pointed out a few more constellations to Donghyuck, Ursa Minor with Polaris the North Star, Cassiopeia in a W shape, and Draco the Dragon.

It was strange, almost, having a conversation with Donghyuck that wasn’t work related or small talk. He seemed genuinely interested in what Renjun had to say. That trip, Renjun finally decided that perhaps he wasn’t too bad.

Therefore, seeing that Donghyuck seems to be going through a tough time now, Renjun resolves to be kinder and more understanding towards him.

In the days that follow, he tries to stick closer to Donghyuck—to distract him from Mark’s glaring absence in his life. When he makes jokes, Renjun laughs and plays along instead of staying quiet. When he walks next to Donghyuck, he rests a casual hand on his shoulder. He plays Donghyuck’s favourite Michael Jackson songs, and attempts (badly) to dance along to Billie Jean, letting Donghyuck teach him the Moonwalk.

None of it feels particularly meaningful but he has fun, and more importantly, Donghyuck has fun too. Sometimes, he thinks that Donghyuck knows what he’s trying to do but he never says anything, so Renjun doesn’t either.

In the past, Renjun hadn’t understood how Donghyuck was so popular among trainees but being the subject of his undivided attention now made him acutely aware of how Donghyuck could get anyone—even someone as initially shy like Jeno—to adore him. He’d be willing to stay in the practice room to help Renjun with his vocals even when he was visibly exhausted. He would help Renjun with his Korean without acting superior.

When Renjun starts to wonder if he might be profiting off the fight, he decides he would rather think of this as the silver lining in the dark cloud.

It clearly wasn’t all sunshine with Mark and Donghyuck though. Eventually, things came to a head after the disastrous We Young performance where Mark nearly started a fight in public in front of thousands of fans and cameras. They had been arguing backstage, but apparently Donghyuck—fed up—had stormed away before Mark could finish yelling. Renjun had followed him onstage, watching as Mark snapped at Donghyuck, who—for his part—had tried appeasing him to maintain professionalism. Renjun had watched worriedly from his spot in the back, wondering if he should intervene. Finally, an unamused Jeno pushed his way between them to remind Mark of the task at hand, and Mark settled down.

The following day, Renjun, Jeno and Donghyuck did a VLive together. They were just casually chatting when the topic of how the members saved each other on their phones came up. Donghyuck announced on live broadcast that Mark had changed his contact name from ‘beloved Donghyuck’ to ‘hateful Donghyuck’ and so he too changed Mark’s contact to ‘hateful Mark’. He had obviously been trying to play it off in the infamous Markhyuck push and pull dynamic, but he couldn’t even muster a smile as he said it. Jeno attempted to laugh to pass it off as a joke, but Renjun was too worried about Donghyuck’s visibly hurt expression to even try.

This caused a fuss on social media which forced management’s intervention. They probably didn’t want another Taeyeon/Jessica style grudge to be played out in public. No one could force people to like each other, but the company could force them to act civilly in public. Renjun wasn’t privy to the details of what transpired when management called them into the office. All he knows is that Donghyuck returned to the Dream dorm with eyes as red as his hair and a bloated nose, quietly packed his things from their room, made some half-hearted joke about how he couldn’t stand the pigsty living conditions anymore and returned to the 127 dorm.

Though Jeno was definitely glad to be able to sleep without a parasite stuck to his back, Renjun knew he was sad to see Donghyuck go. Still, it was a huge relief to see Mark and Donghyuck interacting normally again, especially when they returned to using the original We Young choreography.

So, of course, he was happy that the fighting was over, but… though he was loath to admit it, Renjun had worried that the return of Donghyuck’s best friend might make him forget about him. He was unusually pleased to be proven wrong.

Although peace was restored, a new normal had been established in Dream.

No man is an island—it was not enough to only have one close friend.

Now, Donghyuck could often be found joking with Renjun, the two of them ganging up on the other members, their sense of humour strangely compatible. When Renjun looked at him, Donghyuck would look back. Sometimes he could swear they shared the same thoughts, like they were on the same wavelength. It became natural so quickly, Renjun didn’t even have time to question what took them so long to become friends.

Dream was closer, more tight-knit than before. Renjun felt that the bridge between the original Rookies and China line shrink, like they were one group, one entity, rather than several individuals forced together.

No, they weren’t just fair-weathered friends only gathered to walk the flower path.

They were all-weathered friends, storm bravers, who walked through thick and thin, sunshine and strife together to come out stronger and better.

Perhaps that was the best outcome they could ever hope for. A bunch of teenagers united against time and capitalism—why, it almost sounds like a movie.

**2017 October**

The company had granted them five days of holiday for Mid-Autumn Festival. Before Renjun flew home for the first time since his fateful one-way flight to Seoul in 2015, Donghyuck hugged him tightly before pressing a box of homemade Chuseok rice cake from his mother into his hands. Although Renjun pretended to complain about getting it through customs, he was secretly touched.

The flight is short—barely enough time to watch an episode of a drama before landing but somehow still long enough for Renjun to begin buzzing with nervous energy. It all cumulates when he exits the arrivals terminal to see a smattering of fans carrying homemade banners, there beside his beaming parents waving at him frantically, as if two years without seeing them in person would result in Renjun not recognising them.

He engulfs his mother in a crushing hug, realising with not a small amount of shock that he’s taller and larger than she is. His father waits a step behind, watching as his mother releases him—not without a squeeze of his cheeks and bemoaning that he’s a walking skeleton, which sets the pair of them laughing. His father tells her that they will fatten him up so he’ll return to Seoul looking like a baozi, and Renjun turns to face him properly.

His father clears his throat, and Renjun realises that he must feel unsure. He takes a step forward and his father wraps an arm around him, patting his back awkwardly. “It’s good to have you home, son.”

His mother loops her arm through Renjun’s as his father wheels the suitcase and they make their way to the parking lot. She chatters on about the meal they’re going to have at a nice Cantonese restaurant, how his grandparents, aunts, and uncles are so excited to see him, and he tries not to let his apprehension show.

Dinner is… surprisingly fine. His relatives greet him with much fanfare, as if he is a national hero at Jet Li’s level. His ruddy-faced grandfather brags to the waiter that his grandson is a famous singer. With the baijiu and beer flowing, a seemingly limitless stream of food ranging from glistening Peking duck, a rosy lobster served with lashings of ginger and scallions on a spread of egg noodles, fragrant steamed scallops with vermicelli noodles and garlic, steamed abalone with bok choy and duck feet, longevity noodles and shark’s fin soup, the atmosphere is merry and festive.

After the mixed fruit platter is brought and everyone is sipping on red bean dessert soup, the topic of the bill comes up. With both sides of Renjun’s family in attendance, the fight over the bill is brutal.

His paternal grandfather has just physically slapped his maternal grandfather’s card out of the poor waiter’s hands when Renjun decides enough is enough. He locks eyes with the waiter, holding up a 100 RMB bill, signalling him to come over. Before his grandparents can even make a sound, Renjun slips the bill into the waiter’s hand and slides his card over and shoos him away to process it.

His father laughs harder than he did all night. “Dad, your grandson has stolen your spot.”

Renjun’s grandfathers laugh heartily, slapping each other on the back. “What a boy,” Renjun’s maternal grandfather says. “Seems like it was the right decision to send him to Seoul.”

“Who else’s 17-year-old grandson would be able to pay for his family’s meal?” Renjun’s paternal grandfather chuckles, taking a big drink of beer. “You’re a filial boy, Renjun. You make the Huang family proud. I knew he should have been a singer.”

“I’ll forgive you this time for not taking my card,” Renjun’s maternal grandfather says to the waiter. “That’s my grandson, you know? He went abroad to be a singer and now he’s super famous across Asia. He’s just 17. I always knew he was going to be a star.”

“Ah, is he?” The waiter smiles indulgently at him. “I’ll have to look him up then. My daughter is obsessed with celebrities. She’ll be upset that she missed him. You must be so proud to have him.”

Renjun smiles sheepishly, torn between pride and embarrassment, as he is lavished with praise.

As they drive home, his father says, “It was good for you to pay. You made your grandparents really happy.”

“Of course,” Renjun replies automatically. The bill had been high, especially for his family’s modest background. It was a matter of pride to insist on paying for your in-laws. Renjun was hardly swimming in money, but it was the least he could do to pay for a meal for his family.

“Your grandma was telling her mah-jong group all about you,” Renjun’s mother smiles. “She was so happy to have her globetrotting, famous grandson come home to visit. She’ll be bragging about tonight for years.”

“Until the next time you come for a visit,” his father says cheerfully.

“Ah, stop it,” Renjun says, definitely not whining like a petulant teenager. “I’ve only debuted for a year, I’m hardly famous.”

“Soon, you’ll be that famous,” His father says, his voice full of conviction. “You’ll be plastered across the billboards in China and in all the magazines. Then, you’ll be able to come home more often. You’ll be like that EXO member you like—Luhan. Or is it Wu Yifan?”

Renjun sighs long-sufferingly, “Dad, Luhan and Wu Yifan aren’t in EXO anymore. They left the group years ago. It’s Zhang Yixing who’s in EXO.”

“Well, they’re doing very well. Wu Yifan is in so many movies, and I always see Luhan on television!” Renjun’s mother pipes up. “Did you hear the rumour that he’s dating his co-star?”

“That’s not important,” Renjun’s father says. “Is your company going to have more activities in China?” When Renjun shrugs, he questions, “What’s the point of having you if they don’t plan on having more Chinese activities? Everyone knows that the real money is made in China.”

“It’s a K-POP group, dad. Most of our activities are going to be in Korea for the time being. It’s not up to me where we have our schedules.”

“I wasn’t talking about the others,” His dad clarifies, glancing at him from the rear-view mirror. “I meant you, and Chenle, or even that older boy you lived with, Sicheng. You’re all Chinese. Isn’t it time for you to come home? Why else would your company take you if they aren’t going to send you to the Chinese market?”

It’s not like he never considered everything his father is saying, but he feels indignant despite himself. To say that the company only took him because he was Chinese reduces all the hours of training he’s done to his nationality, and it frustrates him to think that’s all he’s worth.

“Maybe the company saw something special in me, Dad,” He takes a breath of air, trying to remember those idol etiquette lessons. “Maybe that’s why they accepted me.”

Renjun’s mother, ever the mediator, senses that he’s getting agitated, “Of course, Jun Jun,” she says soothingly. “Your father is just worried for you. The Koreans care about Koreans, the Chinese care about Chinese. We don’t want you to be bullied in Korea.”

“My group members are my friends,” He tries not to sound defensive. “I’m not being bullied by them.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice to work in China?” His mother tries again. “You could eat hotpot whenever you want. You could come visit us often. We would be able to understand what you said on television. You wouldn’t need to go on so many of those music shows, so you wouldn’t be so overworked all the time.”

“I’m not overworked,” He frowns. “The idol life is busy, that’s just the way it is.”

“We saw pictures of Wu Yifan, Luhan and Huang Zitao when they were in Korea; they looked gaunt like dead men walking at the end. After they came home, they looked so much happier.”

“Now, they have flourishing careers, and they aren’t treated like second-tier citizens,” His father interjects. “Chinese fans are much better. The bars on Weibo make the news for their level of support to their idols.”

“Besides,” His mother adds with a smile. “In China you could have a girlfriend! Just like Luhan and that co-star of his; you wouldn’t need to hide her away like the Korean idols have to do. Can you imagine, being in your 30s and still not having a family?”

God, his head hurts.

“Mom,” He stresses. “I’m seventeen. I’ve only been active for a year. You can’t possibly be suggesting I break my contract now?”

“Of course not,” His father says. “You still have years to go. But it’s something to remember; a back-up plan.”

Renjun thinks hysterically that breaking a contract with SM is _not_ a back-up plan. Years of court cases and blacklisting were hardly worth seeing out the end of his contract. It certainly wasn’t something he could do without all his ducks in a row—a powerful fanbase, huge contracts lined up and a Chinese entertainment company’s backing.

“I like my members and I like my group,” He says firmly. “I signed a contract when I first entered my company. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t honour my word?”

“I suppose Zhang Yixing is doing very well,” His mother muses. “It’s not a bad idea to plan your career on his.”

With respect to his seniors, Renjun doesn’t want to follow in their footsteps. He doesn’t want to base his career off other people, be the second coming of someone else. He wants to walk his own path, write his own page in the history books, he wants to be able to live and _be himself_.

Their arrival at home just barely prevents Renjun from making a choicest remark. So it wasn’t enough for him to become a K-pop star? His parents go from not supporting his dream to imaging a whole other, _better_ career in China. The only way they’ll ever truly approve is if Renjun has the type of career that would rip him away from Seoul, away from NCT Dream, away from all of his friends.

That’s a thought that Renjun doesn’t think he’s ready to contemplate just yet.

The day before he returns to Seoul, Renjun gets together with a few old school friends at Haidilao for hotpot.

His friends crow loudly when they see him, joking that they’re honoured by the presence of a rich, hotshot celebrity. Renjun touches his dark blond hair self-consciously, debating whether to take off his cap. Until his friends had pointed it out, he hadn’t registered how conspicuous his clothes were. He was clueless about the price of designer clothes—he usually just wore whatever their stylist provided. Renjun hadn’t been back in so long he’d forgotten that the people in Jilin weren’t as designer obsessed (real or fake) as Seoul.

Regardless, he accepts the ribbing with good humour. A lot might have changed but Renjun was more than familiar with being teased. When the waitress approaches to take their order, his friends sit up straight like chastised schoolboys and recite their order of mala hotpot.

He wanders over the sauce station of the restaurant, pondering about what flavours he’d prefer when someone nearby clears their throat. It’s the waitress who was waiting to take their order. She smiles at him, “Can I help you with anything? You’ve been standing here for a while.”

Renjun responds politely, “No, it’s okay. I haven’t been here in a while so I was trying to recall what I like.”

“Oh,” She says with a friendly smile. She looks like she wants to say more but flounders slightly. “There’s a lot of options, aren’t there?”

“There is,” He agrees, focusing on concocting his sauce. The girl lingers, inching closer.

“Well, I’m here to help. Please ask me if you need anything. Anything at all,” She offers, smiling at him.

Renjun wonders if he seems that helpless that the waitress is worried about him. “Sure, thanks,” Renjun replies, adding a smile to be polite.

When he returns to the table, his friends pounce on him.

“You looked awfully smiley over there. What did Chen Meiyi say to you?” Weiqiang, Renjun’s former deskmate, asks.

“Who?” He stares blankly at his friends.

Weiqiang raps his knuckles to Renjun’s head. “Hello? Chen Meiyi—the school flower. Didn’t you have a huge crush on her?”

It takes a few seconds for Renjun to reconcile the name before it finally clicks. “Oh,” he says plainly, glancing up to see the same girl already looking his way. “That’s her? I didn’t know she worked here.”

“It’s safe to say you no longer have a crush on her then,” Weiqiang says wryly. “She works here part-time. So many guys from school eat here just to speak to her, but she always ignores them.”

“What, like you?” Renjun teases while his friend makes a face, ignoring him.

“Not the point. The point _is_ she spoke to you!”

It’s clear they’re expecting some juicy gossip.

“She asked me if I needed help with the sauce.”

“Is sauce a euphemism for something?” One of his friends mutters. Renjun rolls his eyes, ignoring him.

“No, you loser. Anyways, I said no thanks.”

“You idiot!”

“What?” Renjun says defensively. “I didn’t know who she was. Also, doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” More than Chen Meiyi, he has distinct memories of the tall basketball captain who held hands with her.

“Ah, him? They broke up, you’ll be happy to know,” Weiqiang says. “Considering how much you disliked him; Our boy Renjun here was too kind to say anything but I remember you were always staring him down whenever he would come to visit her or when they did mushy couple stuff.”

Renjun squints disbelievingly, “I’m pretty sure that never happened. I _admired_ him.”

In fact, thinking about it now, Renjun remembered feeling rather warmly towards the guy. He was handsome, tall and popular—Renjun had admired him a lot.

Just then, the waitress returns with their food over and his friends clam up again. She places the last item down, turning to Renjun with a smile, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Renjun looks at his friends and they shake their heads. The girl remains, still looking at him, and then he realises that she’s waiting for _his_ answer. “Oh, no, thank you.”

“If you’re sure,” She smiles at him brightly. “Please do let me know if there’s anything I can do. For you.” She smiles at him once more before turning to leave, not sparing a glance at the others.

Renjun objectively comprehends now that she’s trying to flirt with him. Being an idol, he isn’t completely unfamiliar with girls flirting—he gets it at fan signs, at the fan café, on Twitter, etc. But it’s a different story when it’s outside the realm of expected fan-idol interactions. Especially when it’s someone like Chen Meiyi, who he knows from his pre-debut life.

For some reason he has a little difficulty reconciling it. Maybe because he doesn’t feel much different from the Huang Renjun before Seoul on the inside, even if he looks more polished and dressed up on the outside. Is that why she’s flirting with him? Or has he been leading her on? Renjun is quite sure he’s done nothing to encourage it but maybe he was _smiling_ too much at her, but it was difficult to stop. Damn those idol etiquette lessons.

“Hey, you should totally get her number,” Weiqiang suggests to the agreement of others. “2015 Renjun would have peed his pants if he thought of Chen Meiyi looking his way. Like come on, what’s the point in being an idol if you can’t get the girl of your dreams?”

“The girl of _my_ dreams, or the girl of yours?” He replies sarcastically, ladling food onto his plate. “I mean she was pretty and popular, but I only remember you dolts drooling over her every time she walked past.”

“Of course she’s the girl of my dreams! Who doesn’t dream of Chen Meiyi?”

“I don’t think we share the same dreams. I’ll pass.”

“You’re no fun. Come on, do it for your bros.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, “You said she broke up with her boyfriend recently. I can hardly live up to tall, muscular, handsome Li Fumin. So, no thanks.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe you still remember that jerk but you forgot about Chen Meiyi,” Weiqiang sighs. “Talk about your priorities man.”

“Oh, give him a break,” One of his other friends pipes up when he sees Renjun’s face. “He’s in SM Entertainment which has beauties like Yoona and Krystal. He’s used to seeing pretty girls, so his standards are sky high. He’s moved on from Chen Meiyi to probably someone like Irene.”

Renjun laughs wryly, “You wildly overestimate the time I spend with my company seniors. They’re very busy; they hardly loiter around the building to chat with tongue-tied rookies by the water coolers.”

“But you _see_ them, don’t you? With your eyes?”

“Well, yeah, I mean—”

“So, you’re saying that you don’t find them attractive? Who isn’t attracted to Irene?” Weiqiang asked with a tone that suggested Renjun thought she was the ugliest woman on the planet.

“She’s the visual of her group, obviously she’s beautiful,” Renjun says, with a hint of annoyance. “She’s my senior, none of us are allowed to date, and my feelings are professional. I’m not a dog like you, apparently.”

“Ah, you’ve become a cold city man,” Weiqiang shakes his head. “If I had girls throwing themselves at me like you, why, I’d—”

Renjun makes a face and fishes his phone out of his pocket to distract himself from the rather vulgar comment that followed, opening Kakaotalk to respond to unanswered messages.

**Lee Haechan, NCT _19:03_**

_All I’m saying is… you went all the way home for a hotpot chain that you can find in Seoul?_

_Hyung would have treated you if you were so desperate, Injun-ah_

**Huang Renjun _19:47_**

_Shut up, you can’t beat haidilao in the OG country_

_Which hyung? Since when have you ever treated me to anything, you brat?_

**Lee Haechan, NCT _19:48_**

_I resent that—hyung is very busy you know_

_But I know how to take a hint. You want me to buy you food??_

**Huang Renjun _19:48_**

_I’ve got friends and hotpot right here. I don’t need you_

_In fact, I’m so happy, maybe I won’t come back at all_

**Lee Haechan, NCT _19:48_**

_If they’re so good, why’re you talking to me?_

**Huang Renjun _19:49_**

_That’s true. Thanks for the reminder_

_Goodbye, Lee Donghyuck_

**Lee Haechan, NCT _19:49_**

_No wait! I needed to ask you something!_

**Huang Renjun _19:50_**

_… what do you want?_

**Lee Haechan, NCT _19:50_**

_However are you surviving without seeing my beautiful face?_

_Only one more day until your suffering ends!_

_I know you miss me—set this as your new phone wallpaper_

Renjun raises an eyebrow as he downloads the picture, already expecting the worst—as he had thought, it’s a terrible selfie of Donghyuck pouting, his index finger pointing to his bottom lip.

**Huang Renjun _19:50_**

_*vomit emoji*_

_BLOCKED!_

_The message you have sent cannot reach the recipient._

**Lee Haechan, NCT _19:51_**

_!!!!_

_Huang Renjun, how dare you?!_

**Huang Renjun _19:51_**

_New phone, who’s this?_

**Lee Haechan, NCT _19:51_**

_FUCK OFF!_

_You couldn’t forget me if you tried_

**Huang Renjun _19:52_**

_The human brain works in mysterious ways. It’s able to forget horrifying and traumatic experiences in days, sometimes mere hours!_

_So—is this Dongchan?_

_Or Haehyuck?_

**Lee Haechan, NCT 19:52**

_*crying face emoji*_

_I raised you as my own child and this is the thanks I get… children nowadays… so ungrateful_

_Man your friends must be lame as hell if you spend so much time talking to some rando you don’t remember_

**Huang Renjun 19:52**

_… just because it’s true doesn’t mean you’re right. Loser_

_My friends won’t shut up about the waitress_

**Lee Haechan, NCT 19:53**

_Lol why? Is she hot?_

**Huang Renjun 19:53**

_I guess?_

_She went to my school but we never spoke then_

_It’s kind of weird that she’s looking at me now_

**Lee Haechan, NCT 19:53**

_Ah, so it’s like that…_

_Awkward…_

_Well, if she’s so hot and you like her just_

_Enjoy it then? The perks of being an idol, am I right?_

_Take advantage._

_Lol_

Renjun pauses, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Why did it suddenly feel like their conversation had taken a weird turn? He tries to picture Donghyuck’s tone but it just sounded a bit strange.

“Wow, you finally stopped smiling.”

Renjun jolts in his seat. His friends are all looking at him with a mixture of amusement and genuine curiosity.

“What?” he asks, taking a second to recover as he pockets his phone.

“You’ve been grinning at your phone like a lunatic for ten minutes straight. Is that your secret girlfriend?” Weiqiang grins like he’s got it all figured out. “That must be why you’re not interested in Meiyi anymore.”

“I don’t have a secret girlfriend. I’m not about to lose my job over some girl just a year in,” Renjun sighs. “And that was my group member. And would you stop with Chen Meiyi—I never really liked her that much.”

“If you say so,” They recite together, look at him dubiously. Renjun just rolls his eyes.

“Look, we’ve been here for how long and all we’ve talked about is me. Let’s talk about you. Tell me all that’s going on in school. What did I miss?” Once Renjun diverts back the conversation away from girls and crushes and bandmates, the evening goes much smoother.

At the end of the night, Renjun goes to pay the bill to the cheering of his friends. He walks up to the counter, making eye contact with Meiyi, who visibly brightens and smiles bigger as he approaches.

“Are you done already?” Meiyi asks, punching in his table number on the system. “Did you enjoy everything? The food? The… service?”

“Yeah, it was nice,” He says, patting his tummy. “I think I ate more than I should have.”

Meiyi laughs, a tinkling girlish sound, “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Nothing beats food from your hometown.” The bill slowly prints out from the machine. They’re silent for a beat before she pushes on. “I’ve kind of… followed your career, you know. What’s it like in Seoul?”

“Um, it’s modern, I guess,” Renjun finds it difficult to describe the city, especially now that he actually lives there. “Big, high-tech, and there’s lots of people.”

She giggles, even though nothing he said was funny, and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “That’s cool. I’d like to visit Seoul too.”

“You should. It’s worth seeing,” He says, before handing her his bank card. “I’d like to pay by card please.”

Her hand brushes against his when she reaches out to take it, her eyes darting up to look at him. He takes a moment to look over his purported secondary school crush—he supposes she’s pretty in that unmade-up, pure way. She’d make a decent drama heroine. Renjun can understand why the tall and handsome Li Fumin’s of the world would be attracted to girls like her. He doesn’t realise he’s been staring until she starts to shift bashfully, blushing lightly but looking undeniably pleased. _Oh dear_.

“I- I listen to your group! I really liked your new mini album,” She says in a soft voice, smiling shyly at him as she hands him the card machine. “You looked really handsome in the sailor uniform, and you sounded great.”

“Ah,” Renjun is grateful that he can look down as he punches in the code for his card. “Thank you.”

“I knew that you danced since you entered school competitions before, but I was surprised by how good your voice was,” She continues, taking the card machine from him.

“Uh, which competition?” He asks, taken aback.

“The one where you danced Taeyang’s Ringa Linga, a few years back? Once you debuted, I remembered.”

Renjun immediately wants to facepalm. He laughs embarrassedly, “Oh, that is some dark history there. If you judge my dancing there, I shouldn’t have been able to enter the company.”

“Well, I think you did well, and you improved a lot,” She smiles prettily. “NCT Dream is very popular, you should be proud of yourself!”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Renjun says automatically. “We’ll continue to work harder.”

“Yeah,” She clears her throat, her eyes darting from his face to the desk. “I was just wondering. Do you think I could have your autograph please?”

“Sure,” He says, relaxing slightly. Fan interactions he could do. It was just like visiting any other restaurant that recognised him. He takes the pen and signs his signature, addressing it to her name. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” She grins, taking the autograph and clutching in her hands tightly. “I- I’m so happy. I can’t believe how times have changed so much. Someone I went to school with is a K-pop idol.”

“Yeah, it is kind of strange,” He agrees, smiling.

“I remember you as a classmate, and now you’re here,” She shakes her head. “It’s amazing.”

He hums, putting on his cap again.

Meiyi takes a deep breath, a pink flush coming over her cheeks, “I just wanted to know—could I, um, could I have your number?”

Renjun pauses, his own face turning red. _Oh dear_.

“Um,” He hesitates, wondering how to let her down nicely. “I live in Seoul. I have a Korean number…”

“Oh, of course,” Her smile trembles and suddenly she can’t meet his eye anymore. “Yes, I should have—It’s no matter. I was being silly. It’s just, I heard your friends say you used to like me before, and I just thought—well, it doesn’t matter.”

Renjun feels flustered and put on the spot. “Well, I. It’s not that- anyways. Sorry. Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” She mumbles, smiling tightly. “Thank you for coming. Goodbye.”

He nods at her apologetically, hoping she doesn’t take it too personally. He turns to meet up with his waiting friends and they leave the restaurant, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable.

The only time someone he’d personally known had confessed to him was the girl who sat behind him in primary school. That was different—there were no expectations as children. But this? He can’t say he’s ever been asked out before, and it was just… it was a disaster, to put it plainly. Not a great first experience.

Renjun trails behind his friends as they laugh and shove one another excitedly, fishing his phone out of his pocket once more.

**Huang Renjun 21:07**

_Ugh. Did not enjoy. 2/10 would not recommend._

_Being an idol makes shit more awkward, 100% confirmed._

Finished with complaining, he moves to tuck his phone back in his pocket, surprised when it immediately buzzes in response.

**Lee Haechan, NCT 21:07**

_My poor baby Injunnie!_

_I’m still here for you!!_

_*kissing emoji*_

Renjun reads the message, scoffing to himself at Donghyuck’s audacity. He pockets his phone with a grin, feeling far lighter since he left the restaurant—this fresh air must really be doing the trick.


	2. Act 2

**2018 February**

2018 is the turning point.

Two years after debut is make or break for idols. The company can tolerate low public recognition and poor sales for rookie idols, but comebacks are costly and no one is throwing money at a sinking ship. SNSD released Gee in 2009, f(x) released Hot Summer in 2011, EXO released Growl in 2013, Red Velvet released Russian Roulette in 2016, the trend is clear—by the second year, the group should achieve their career breakthrough.

Despite NCT Dream getting their first win with My First and Last and NCT 127 getting theirs with Cherry Bomb, it isn’t enough. They don’t measure up to the success of their company seniors and the shadow of their legacy looms over them every time they step foot into the SM building. The perils of being in the biggest Korean entertainment company which houses legends is that their best is never enough. That exceptions like EXO are seen as standard rather than special, and they have to outdo Goliath when they are merely David.

Therefore, 2018 is a momentous year for NCT, and it becomes clear that the company is throwing everything they have at them. NCT 2018 is the most ambitious project they have planned yet. 18 members in NCT 2018—eight is a prosperous number in Chinese (and he supposed, Korean)—meaning to prosper, to earn money. Eighteen, even more so, means that they will prosper, they _must_.

Renjun looks at 2018 and thinks that this is the year that everything will change.

Either for better or for worse, because if Mark doesn’t run ragged and end up in hospital for burnout, then he’s truly superhuman. On the other hand of the spectrum, returning from hiatus looking more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed than ever is Jaemin, who looks like he went on a beauty retreat rather than demanding physical therapy.

When management announced their plans for 2018, Renjun had been most excited to hear about Jaemin’s return. The Dreamies had been in regular contact with him, of course, but it was such a relief that the doctor had marked him recovered and the company had authorised his proper return as a Dream member.

It was the turning of a new leaf when Jaemin arrived back in the Dream dorm in January. It felt predestined that he would come back at the precipice of the most ambitious undertaking NCT would face with NCT 2018. There was so much happening this year that if Jaemin had to sit this out, it would be the point of no return.

When the video for NCT 2018 Yearbook was released in late January, Renjun knew Jaemin was so relieved by the outpouring of love and support from the fans. It went some ways in convincing him that he belonged in the group, not that he ever presented anything other than a confident façade.

SM was not playing around with NCT world domination, because they prised open their coffers and spent money on filming the latest comebacks. NCT U went to Kiev to film Boss, and Dream got to GO to LA.

It was the first time Renjun had ever left Asia, his longest ever flight voyage to date at more than eleven hours. He was excited to see the famed City of Angels, the Entertainment Capital of the World. As an idol, LA held a singular appeal to him because it was the place where all the globally recognised people congregated. All the top musical, acting and dancing talents, practically all of them lived or worked in LA.

When Donghyuck had heard this, he had remarked that it was just the place where everyone tried to be someone—not unlike Seoul. This, Renjun stubbornly ignored.

He was a bit sad that they would only be in the city for a short time; they had hit the ground running, going into hair and makeup as soon as they landed so they could start filming for the jacket photos. It was a bit unfortunate that practically a whole day of their 3-day trip had practically gone into travel, but Mark was a VIP who had to return to Seoul for BOSS promotions and 127 would have to film for Touch with Donghyuck too. Regardless, Renjun tries to make the most of his first time in America.

Filming for GO is surprisingly fun. Renjun is glad to move on from the childish concepts of their previous singles. GO centred around teenage rebellion, which was an ironic choice given that none of them ever went through it. The most rebellious thing Renjun had done was to audition without his parents’ consent.

Even if they were only teenage rebels for show in a carefully controlled environment, it felt liberating doing things that he had never dared to do before. They were members of a ragtag gang who wore effortlessly cool outfits, who played truant at school only to break in at night to dance in deserted hallways. They ran amok in empty train stations and jumped over turnstiles, hung around abandoned warehouses, messed around on out-of-bounds train tracks, climbed on top of rooftops like they were parkour traceurs just to see the sunset. They rode bikes recklessly because it was fun, and sat on top of cars just for the hell of it. They had wild parties, drank and fought and were the careless teenagers that white suburban movies were made of.

A wild ecstasy filled Renjun’s veins as they screamed and ran down the roads, high off of adrenaline and sleep deprivation, their stomachs filled with coffee and sugary doughnuts. In certain moments he really felt like they were the teenage rebels they were portraying.

On their penultimate day in LA, to reward them for their hard work, their managers let them feast on West Coast America’s finest cuisine—In-N-Out.

Renjun is excited to see what the hype is about these burgers that made them first on every idol’s LA bucket list. Finally, their managers bring out bags of those white background red palm-tree fast food and the boys cheer. After laying the food out nicely to take pictures, Donghyuck passes out cheeseburgers for them to take the obligatory In-N-Out picture with the iconic paper hat, and then they sink their teeth into the food.

It doesn’t disappoint—the toasted bun isn’t stale, the beef patty is meaty and juicy, the caramelised onions add a sweet flavour, and the lettuce and tomatoes are fresh and provide good texture. He really likes the burger sauce, so of course, the animal style fries with melted cheese, caramelised onions and the special sauce is right up his alley. Topped off with a vanilla milkshake, and Renjun has California in a meal.

The boys are all quiet as they eat ravenously and he wonders if the fries are called animal style because it makes people eat like animals, considering how quickly the food disappears.

Of course, it wouldn’t really be Dream if there weren’t some food hijinks. Jaemin is the victim of Donghyuck’s prank where he swapped his strawberry milkshake—two things he hates—for Jaemin’s coke. It was difficult to say what was funnier—Jaemin’s enraged expression or his voice cracking mid-screech.

They have some time to rest as the rest of the staff are eating, so they decide to play games. Mark suggests the Song Byungho finger folding game, and they agree that the loser has to drink a disgusting unholy combination made of the dregs of all their drinks.

It starts out tamely enough:

“Those with bright hair, fold.” So Jisung, Chenle, Jaemin and Donghyuck fold down a finger.

Jaemin foolishly squanders his chance by saying “Those who are wearing the same bracelet as me, fold.”

Jisung, learning from Jaemin’s mistakes, goes “Those who are handsome, fold.”

Everyone glances around at each other dubiously. Mark laughs, “Practically everyone has folded their fingers.”

Renjun looks at the members’ attire to see the best way to take out a bunch of them. “Those wearing red, fold!”

Donghyuck and Jisung fold obediently, though rather grudgingly. Chenle protests loudly when Renjun looks at him meaningfully, “My jumper is orange! It has stripes!”

“It’s reddish-orange, Chenle-yah,” Donghyuck singsongs smugly. “If my hair is bright, your jumper is red.”

Chenle huffs before folding. “You guys are no fun! These questions are so boring!”

As it stands, Chenle and Donghyuck have two remaining fingers, Jisung and Jaemin with three, and Jeno, Renjun and Mark with four.

Jeno, feeling the pressure, sighs. Donghyuck nudges him, “It’s not that hard! There are so many questions to ask! Just tell people who have had their voice crack on national television to fold!”

Donghyuck grins unrepentantly as they burst into laughter, and Renjun swats at him, “Yah! Lee Donghyuck! Just because you went through puberty earlier!”

“Hey! I could be talking about Mark Lee!” He tries to play innocent, even though he’s grinning like the devil.

“What?” Mark squawks, his voice very nearly breaking. “Hey, don’t make this about me!”

“Nah,” Jeno shakes his head. “Those who have drank alcohol, fold.” He eyes them carefully, “Be honest!”

“Well, I drank on broadcast, everybody knows that,” Mark says, folding a finger so he was down to three.

Renjun, too, folded a finger. Anticipating the questions, he says, “I’m from Dongbei province.”

“Fair enough,” Chenle snorts. “The men in Northeast China are manly men. They drink baijiu like it’s water.”

“Chenle!” Renjun chastises, seeing the appraising looks from the Dreamies. “I only had a glass of beer with my parents the last time I visited.”

Chenle and Jisung unsurprisingly didn’t fold, but Donghyuck wavers, “What do you mean when you say those who have drank? Because I don’t believe that you guys have never had a single sip.”

“Yah, if you have to argue, you’ve had more than a sip,” Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “When was this?”

Renjun senses an opportunity, “Was this with 127? Did you secretly drink without the hyungs knowing?”

Mark frowns, “They always put you with the Dreamies when we had yearly company dinners. When could you have drunk?”

“You guys are making me look bad,” Donghyuck exclaims, finally folding his finger and bringing it down to one. “Doyoungie hyung likes wine and he opened up a bottle. He said it made him relax, so I wanted to try some. I only had, like, half a glass though!”

“Ooh, you’re down to one finger now, Hyuckie,” Jeno laughs, wiggling his four fingers happily.

Donghyuck doesn’t deign that a response. He looks over at the rest of them, his eyes resting on Chenle’s two fingers, obviously considering his next move. If he took out Chenle with his round, Donghyuck would definitely lose the game as it was Chenle’s turn after him.

“Fold if you have a crush on someone,” Donghyuck decides finally, to the jeering from Jisung and Chenle.

“That’s so lame,” Jisung says, but Renjun watches as Donghyuck stares at Mark, who tries to avoid his eye as he folds a finger in response.

“Wait, who does Mark hyung like?” Jeno asks and Mark begins to blush red.

Donghyuck laughs, delighted to cause trouble as usual. “He fancies—”

Mark launches himself out of the chair to cover Donghyuck’s mouth but quickly releases him, “Ew! You licked me! And you have crumbs on your mouth!”

Donghyuck glowers as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, but then smiles angelically, “Mark hyung likes—”

“Oh, come on,” Mark huffs, looking at him with betrayed eyes. “You can’t use that against me.”

“Wait, Jaemin hyung folded too!” Chenle shouts, and everyone turns at once to look at him.

To his credit, Jaemin just shrugs, sitting back into the chair and folding his arms, “I think it’s weirder than you guys don’t have crushes. Do you not have any feelings at all?”

“Who’s this now?” Donghyuck asks eagerly, leaning forward. “Is it a trainee? Is it someone we know?”

“If this is Tiffany sunbaenim, I don’t want to hear it,” Renjun adds. “Celebrity crushes don’t count, unless it’s an idol that we personally know.”

“I don’t know, I’d say the crush that Chenle has on Stephen Curry is very real. He’s been upset over the fact that he hasn’t _bumped_ into him yet in LA.” Jeno says, to the attention of no one, not even Chenle.

“You have no faith in me, Injun-ah,” Jaemin pouts. “We do personally know the SNSD sunbaenims. We’ve met them before and I’m sure they know our names.”

“Yah, Na Jaemin,” Donghyuck prods, hitting Jaemin’s head lightly. “Quit stalling. You know you want to tell us. Who is it?”

Jaemin tilts his head, considering, looking very much content with making them suffer, before he relents. “Fine, I’ll tell you. You guys have never met her. She’s an intern at the hospital I went to for physical therapy.”

“A noona, why am I not surprised,” Jeno muses. “You always liked older girls.”

“Wait, how old is old?” Chenle pipes up.

Jaemin huffs, “Not _that_ old, you brat. She’s only 22 and I’m 19, it’s not that much.”

“What I want to know is if you got anywhere with her?” Donghyuck’s eyes glimmer with curiosity.

At that, Jaemin smiles smugly, “I’m a gentleman. I don’t kiss and tell.”

This incites the boys to riot.

“So you kissed her!” Donghyuck accuses, earning a smug smirk from Jaemin.

“Yah! You can’t say that and not explain!” Mark demands, shaking his shoulder. “Come on! Did you really kiss her? Are you,” he looks furtively around, “dating her?”

Jaemin clears his throat, still smiling like the cat that got the canary, “Chenle, I believe it’s your turn.”

“Wait, where are everybody’s fingers?” Chenle asks, after they’ve settled down somewhat. “Hyung, I know you only have one finger, no need to hide it.” Donghyuck pouts and shows his hand.

“Chenle-yah, my beloved dongsaeng,” He says pleadingly. “You know how much hyung loves you, right?”

“Hmm,” Chenle glances at the sludge of brownish goop that is the punishment, wrinkling his nose. “How much do you love me?”

“Hyung will buy you food,” Donghyuck peers up at Chenle with wide eyes, his lower lip jutting out. “Hyung will get you something nice.”

“Haechan’s a liar,” Jaemin says from the other side, smirking. “Make him drink that.”

“Stay strong, Chenle,” Mark encourages. “Don’t fall for the enemy!”

Renjun laughs, “That’s because you’re worried Donghyuck will make _you_ drink that!”

“Chenle, please?” Donghyuck pleads again, cosying up to him as Jeno gently kneads his shoulders in support.

“Jeno hyung, you’re too soft for Donghyuckie hyung,” Jisung sighs, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Alright, I’ve made up my mind,” Chenle says, making everybody sit up straighter.

“Chenle,” Donghyuck declares with a smile. “I know I can trust you!”

“Of course, hyung,” Chenle looks like an angel with his blond hair and sweet smile, before saying, “Those who have had their first kiss, fold!”

It’s the human embodiment of dropping Mentos into Coke.

Donghyuck screeches, shoving Jeno away, sending him tumbling to the floor. “You’re a demon!” He cries, stubbornly holding onto his last finger, dramatic as always. “You said I could trust you! That wasn’t a kiss!”

Everyone laughs at him and Mark even folds down Donghyuck’s pinkie, causing him to cry out “No!”

Jeno pulls himself up, retorting, “ _You_ kissed me first! And now you want to say it’s not a kiss?”

Donghyuck doesn’t blush easily, but Renjun is amazed at how rosy his cheeks look now. He wants to see more of it, so he gleefully pounces on this opportunity, “Ouch, way to hurt Jeno. Are you saying he’s such a bad kisser it didn’t count?”

“What?” Donghyuck stutters, his eyes passing from Renjun to Jeno and away, and the redness in his face increases. His ears are red—it’s very cute. “No, I—ugh!” It’s a first to see him at a loss for words.

Jeno pouts, “I can’t believe you stole my first kiss and then ran away.”

Jaemin coos, making baby noises at him. “And you even did it on camera!”

“They said to do something daring, so I did! You were the one who didn’t back away!” Donghyuck protests. “What were _you_ thinking, getting so close to me? Angling your head that close is _not_ fighting!”

Before they can descend into argument, Chenle’s high-pitched voice cuts through the chaos, “Wait, hyung, so that wasn’t your first kiss?”

“Um, hello,” Donghyuck says, his voice high, pointing at Mark. “This guy also folded too! Why aren’t we asking the more pertaining question as to _who_ would actually kiss Seagull brows over here?”

“Mark is Canadian,” Chenle says, grinning as Mark touches his eyebrows, offended. “Everyone knows that Westerners go around hugging and kissing each other.”

Mark drags a hand down his face, “I’m Canadian, not European. Have you ever seen any of our American staff members going around kissing people?”

“God, I can’t believe he got a kiss before I did,” Renjun mutters, side-eyeing Mark.

“Why didn’t you?” Donghyuck asks, leaping on a distraction. “You weren’t a trainee until you were 16.”

“Uh, my face?” Renjun replies lamely, scratching his head. “Besides, I wasn’t interested either. My parents said that I was too young to be dating anyways.”

“Weren’t you friends with lots of girls, though?” Jeno adds, tilting his head curiously.

He stares at him blankly before remembering he had shown Jeno some of his old pictures with school friends. “All my cousins are girls, so I hung out with their friends too. I didn’t like any of them.”

“Wait a second,” Chenle stops him, narrowing his eyes. “We’re getting off track. So we know Mark, Jeno and Donghyuck hyung had their first kiss already, but Jaemin hyung folded too?”

Jaemin snickers, “Oh, I had my first kiss already. Right, Haechan-ah?” He wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously,

Renjun glances suspiciously between Jaemin and Donghyuck as he tries to figure out what they aren’t saying. Donghyuck is quiet, but judging from the smirk playing on Jaemin’s lips, the grin that Jeno can’t suppress and Donghyuck’s complete refusal to look at Jaemin, then—

“Wait, your first kiss was with Donghyuck hyung?” Jisung’s eyes bulge out, looking extremely scandalized.

“Hey, what’s with the tone!” Jaemin huffs, offended. “Haechanie should feel flattered that I gave him my first kiss. He certainly didn’t have many takers to choose from!”

That’s apparently the last straw for Donghyuck, who whirls around, a flush high on his cheeks, “Yah, Na Jaemin! Don’t act like you did me such a favour! You just used me to practice for Hina!”

“And you used me to figure out that you like boys!” Jaemin shoots back instantly, clearly teasing, but then immediately realises what he’s done. “ _Shit_.”

Renjun stares at Donghyuck, who has gone white and tense, like a captured prey awaiting imminent slaughter. His ears are ringing as what Jaemin said processes in his mind.

_Like boys. Like boys. Like boys._

“Shit, Donghyuck-ah,” Jaemin looks frantic, his large eyes made wider as he desperately tries to salvage the situation. “It’s a joke—I was just joking. I didn’t mean it, I uh…”

His eyes dart around the boys, as if searching for support, and his face is a picture of regret and worry.

Renjun can’t move his eyes off of Donghyuck, whose fists are clenched bone white, his body immobile like a statue frozen in a moment of fear.

Finally, he exhales, the sound shaky. Donghyuck looks around, making sure the managers are completely preoccupied, but when he finally speaks his voice is frighteningly composed, “Well, I suppose it was bound to come out some day. But I was hoping to tell you myself.”

Jaemin clambers out of his seat, wrapping his arms around Donghyuck’s shoulders to hug him from behind, his voice dripping in remorse. “I’m so sorry, Donghyuck-ah. I didn’t mean to say anything. I'm an idiot. I’m so used to joking around with you when we’re alone, I—”

“I know,” He says tightly, and Renjun feels very unsettled. Donghyuck isn’t like this—he’s rambunctious and loud, he doesn’t—oh, he feels his chest unconstrict a bit when Donghyuck’s expression clears slightly. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s not terror. “I know you didn’t.”

Donghyuck’s eyes flicker over to Renjun and Chenle, scrutinising their—and only their—reactions. Renjun unintentionally flinches as their eyes meet and Donghyuck immediately drops his gaze to the floor. Looking around, all the other boys are watching them too. Suddenly, it’s very apparent—

 _Everyone knows but Renjun and Chenle._ He’s never really felt a divide, honestly, between the Korean members. Not since they came together. But clearly the original Rookies have been keeping secrets; Mark looks concerned, Jeno is worried—holding one of Donghyuck’s hands, and Jisung—Jisung just looks upset, like he might cry. Renjun’s surprise is mirrored in Chenle’s face, but somehow he doesn’t look nearly as stunned.

“Donghyuck,” Jaemin whispers, squeezing onto him tighter. “I’m really, _really_ sorry.” It’s clear he feels awful. Suddenly Renjun is worried their sudden shift towards despair is going to attract the attention of the managers and the idea _terrifies_ him. He shifts in his seat, using his body to block them as best he can. “I’m so sorry, really. I’d never purposely—”

“It… it happened,” Donghyuck says dully, patting his arm. “I- it’s not like I didn’t want you all to know. I mean. It’s just tough. No one can find out, you know? The fans. The staff.” He suddenly realises their position and his head whips around to check that the managers are occupied, but somehow, thankfully, they’re too preoccupied to notice what the members are up to.

When Donghyuck turns back, he focuses his attention on Renjun and Chenle. “You know I trust you, right? I thought… well I hope you’d still be there for me, but...”

Chenle immediately nods his head reassuringly, his eyes wide like he had never considered anything else. "Of course, hyung. I love you." he says, without thinking.

Mark stands up, placing a protective hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder, “Of course they would,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument. “And this stays between us. _Only_ the seven of us.”

Mark rarely acts as leader, but as he stares into each of their eyes, his posture taut and his expression serious, his authority is unquestionable. It’s respectable.

Renjun is still trying to come to terms with it when they are called back to get ready for the shoot, breaking the tension ever so slightly. Donghyuck immediately leaves without a second glance. Mark gives Chenle and him a brief but searching look before he follows, catching up and placing a reassuring hand on Donghyuck’s back.

Renjun feels weird. Mark isn’t one to initiate skinship with Donghyuck, it’s just not the way things are done. He doesn’t really know how to describe what he feels, but he chocks it up to the shock of finding out something important out of the blue, and the mild hurt of realising you’re the last one to know.

The rest of them trail behind them. Jaemin looks entirely dejected, casting longing gazes at Donghyuck—if he was the bunny that the fans oft compared him to, his long floppy ears would droop. Renjun isn’t sure why but something hot and angry flares up inside him. He’s on Jaemin before he knows what he’s doing.

“If you keep looking at him like that, manager hyung is going to notice something wrong and you’ll draw unwanted attention again,” He hisses quietly, trying not to let his unfounded anger seep into his tone. “We don’t want them asking questions.”

Jaemin blinks up at him in surprise, his expression dropping further before it’s replaced by determination. “You’re right,” he replies lowly, mouth set into a firm line. Then his expression softens with a sigh. “You’re right, Injunnie. Thanks for… reminding me.”

Renjun nods, his prickling resentment fading back to his previous swirling confusion. He gives Jaemin’s hand a reassuring squeeze before taking off towards the cars. He purposely looks for Chenle, thankful to find him in the car that Donghyuck isn't in. He slides in beside him in the backseat, going over the events in Mandarin in hushed tones until Jisung appears and the car takes off. He trades looks with them, wondering if Donghyuck and Jaemin will try to work things out.

Renjun wonders a lot of things but he can’t focus, his mind spinning to process.

When they finish filming for the day, Renjun returns to an empty hotel room. He’s not entirely surprised. His roommate has certainly had a rough day. He finishes showering, packs his suitcase, and takes to sitting on his bed trying to distract himself, drawing on his iPad. When he catches himself glancing at the clock for the fifth time in 2 minutes, he gives it up as a bad job, turning to stare at the unoccupied bed beside him.

 _Donghyuck likes boys_.

He can’t believe it. Renjun has never met a gay person before. Not that he knows. They just aren’t really allowed to exist in China, at least not in Jilin. He wasn’t ignorant enough to believe that homosexuality was a Western disease as some said, but it wasn’t something that was spoken about. Gay movies were forbidden by the government and homosexuality was a term that yielded no results on the Chinese Internet. Objectively, he knows that gay people exist, but along the same vein he knows about childbirth—a theoretical concept that exists, but sort of an impossibility for him.

Renjun isn’t _disgusted_ with Donghyuck. He’s weighed his feelings enough to know that. He’s never thought about homosexuality deeply enough to even form an opinion, but gay people are still people, they deserve to be treated as such. He has no issues with gay people, he decides. He wouldn’t bat an eye if an acquaintance was gay, it’s just that he _knows_ Donghyuck. And all of the sudden, it feels like he doesn’t. It’s like he’s just been told there’s a whole other side to his friend that he’s been let in on, which must be why his admission today has Renjun bamboozled.

The sound of the keycard in the door causes Renjun to startle out of his thoughts and he has just enough time to compose himself before it swings open.

“You’re still up,” Donghyuck sounds tired as he steps into their shared hotel room, the makeup from today’s filming still on his face.

Renjun sits up straighter on the bed. “I was waiting for you,” he hesitates to say, but ultimately decides to. “I didn’t know if you would come.”

Donghyuck doesn’t turn to look at him, but he pauses briefly as he rifles for pyjamas in his suitcase. “This is my room, why wouldn’t I?”

Without waiting for an answer, he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. Within seconds, Renjun hears the shower turn on, and he sighs—he supposes he’ll have to keep waiting if he hopes to make another attempt at that conversation. Renjun lays back in bed, determined to wait him out.

When he suddenly wakes, it’s to the feeling of something soft covering him. He blinks fuzzily, not remembering when he turned off the lights. He makes a confused noise when his iPad isn’t on his chest. Renjun panics, thinking that he dropped it somewhere, feeling around wildly.

“I put it on your bedside table.”

He catches a boyish musky scent, something clean and cottony. “Donghyuck?” He asks, fumbling to get his arm out, caught between the realms of sleep and consciousness.

“I’m here,” He says, touching Renjun’s hand lightly before drawing away. His voice sounds hoarse, more tired than Renjun thought. “Go to sleep. We have to get up early.”

“Wait, I have something to say,” Renjun yawns despite himself, and Donghyuck chuckles quietly.

“I think you’re too tired to speak.”

“No,” He says grouchily. He yanks on Donghyuck’s hand and tugs him into the bed, “Stop hovering over my bed like a sleep paralysis demon so I can actually talk to you. The sooner we talk, the sooner we can sleep.”

Donghyuck is slighter than he looks and falls beside him easily, but he quickly tries to move away.

“Renjun, I—just, are you sure?” He sounds hesitant, maybe resentful. But Renjun’s sleepy mind also thinks he sounds almost frightened. He dismisses this as ridiculous—Lee Donghyuck is _never_ afraid.

“You’ve been badgering me the entire trip to sleep with you and now you don’t want to?” He grumbles, throwing one side of his comforter over Donghyuck. “Make up your damn mind.”

The bed isn’t very big and he can feel Donghyuck tense. “Renjun… I don’t know if you’re just trying to humour me or what—”

“Shut up,” He says, aggressively throwing an arm around Donghyuck’s waist, feeling him suck in a startled breath. “I’m really tired so stop arguing with me and _listen_.”

“Listening,” Donghyuck says sullenly.

“I was _surprised_ , okay? You were upset—none of that was planned. I didn’t know what reaction you wanted. I was still trying to…” Renjun trails off, glad that his chest is to Donghyuck’s back and that it’s dark, so he can’t see his face. The cover of night emboldens him enough to be straightforward for once. “This isn’t about me, but I want you to know—I’m not grossed out or angry or judging you. I just… didn’t know what to think.”

“I was so blindsided by how everything unfolded and I saw you and I just wanted you to—I don’t know, offer reassurance. But you just looked… well. Horrified. Disgusted,” Donghyuck says so quietly that Renjun has to strain to hear him. “I was legitimately worried that you—that’s you’d… judge me. Look down on me.”

Renjun feels ashamed. “Never,” he vows, squeezing closer to Donghyuck, hoping that he feels his sincerity in his embrace. “I would never. I love you.”

For a moment, it feels like enough. There’s a solid minute of companionable silence before the meaning of his words finally catch up to his brain, and then he feels his entire body flush with embarrassment, “Wait, no! Not like that!”

This breaks the spell and he feels Donghyuck’s body shake with laughter. “I know what you mean, idiot.” He says wryly. “I appreciate the sentiment. Really, in all sincerity. And don’t worry about your virtue, you’re not my type anyways.”

Renjun smacks him, not sure if he should feel offended or relieved. “Who _is_ your type then?” He asks curiously, his voice breaking as he yawns. All of the emotions from today have thoroughly worn him out. Once again, he’s fighting to keep his eyes open.

He can hear Donghyuck smiling when he responds, “Go to sleep, Jun-ah.”

“Wait, you can’t weasel out of telling me your ideal type,” He says, closing his eyes and breathing in the lulling scent of cool clean cotton. “I want to know.”

“Someone cute… someone whose smile lights up his face.”

“Oh,” Renjun is already half asleep. “I hope you find him.”

It’s quiet and warm and soothing, wrapping up together in bed. The last thing he remembers before drifting off is the rumble of the hum he can feel in Donghyuck’s chest before he answers,

“Me too.”

**2018 May**

What people consider vanity is a job requirement for idols.

Monthly dermatologist and dental appointments soon become the norm, with the occasional massage thrown in as a perk. Outside of the expected beauty appointments for schedules, he also has to go into the salon for treatments lest he ends up with Mark’s infamous fried ramen hair.

Renjun doesn’t consider himself vain but it was amazing how SM styling could transform a person. He wouldn’t say he had low self-esteem before debut, but undoubtedly, his confidence has sky-rocketed under the careful moulding of professional stylists. Lee Soo Man’s horticulturalist knew how to cultivate the prettiest blooms in his flower garden. Sometimes, he’d catch himself staring back at himself in reflective surfaces. It wasn’t only admiration for his beauty, but an awe at his metamorphosis into this faerie pretty-boy. The change from awkward teenage Renjun to near adult idol still surprised him.

But the issue with beauty is that one is always a work-in-progress, there is never a definite golden standard that a person can meet and then be content that they are _good enough_. There will always be areas for improvement, aspects that need a little maintenance. Not to mention, you are always fighting against the clock—ageing.

In NCT Dream, Jeno and Jaemin are declared the visuals, receiving the company’s seal of approval that they are the most handsome in the group. They have the faces, so thus they also have to work on their bodies. They are eighteen now. Their fans are growing up with them, they don’t want scrawny little boys who make moon eyes at teachers—they want the cool sporty jocks and the student council president who fills out his blazer, they want the guys who have boyish faces and manly physique. That… isn’t Renjun.

Renjun isn’t competitive compared to Donghyuck, but when he sees Jeno and Jaemin going to the gym, guzzling protein shakes and devouring chicken breast, starting to build definition—he begins to feel the fear of missing out. Someone like Shindong would say it was a privilege to have this problem, but between constant dance practice and irregular meals, it was difficult for him to put on weight. Many fans have commented that he was too thin, and he did want to look good for them. And so, the next time Jeno and Jaemin head off to the gym, he tags along.

Honestly, he wishes he hadn’t bothered.

Jeno promised that it would get better and Renjun, perhaps naively, had believed him. Everyone felt intimidated when they came to the gym with all the medieval torture device looking machinery, or the big, beefy guys with biceps thicker than Renjun’s thighs grunting obnoxiously as they lifted weights. It was _a lot_. It was hard not to simply turn around and walk back out the door. He might have done, too, if Jeno hadn’t grabbed him.

After the psychological shock, he then has to deal with the physical strain of working out. As an idol who does complicated choreography, Renjun considers himself to be in decent shape. He was not happy to have that immediately disproved by his personal trainer.

He knows he will never match Jeno or Jaemin’s size—their musculature is too different. He had hoped to at least achieve something like Taeyong’s body, but that seems too far a reach too.

Out of vanity or competitiveness, Renjun persists to go to the gym even though his brain begs him not to. Plenty of other members work out, and one gym rat he constantly bumps into is Jaehyun. The man is honestly fitness goals. Renjun can’t help but be thankful that their gym is a private member only establishment. He could easily imagine it flooded with thirsty fans eager to catch a glimpse of sweaty Jaehyun as he does pull-ups, arms straining in his sleeveless muscle tanks, an impressive chest peeking through the wide holes of his shirt.

Frankly, Renjun thinks it’s unfair that someone like Jung Jaehyun should have that face, that voice, _and_ that body on top of it. Well, he does work out an awful lot, so maybe he does deserve it. But still, it’s unfair.

As a gym rookie, Renjun sticks to the exercises that his personal trainer has created for him, aimed to strengthen his existing muscles. It’s a completely different routine to Jaehyun’s (the details of which he stealthily obtained from the personal trainer), who seems to be in the process of burning away fat to get washboard abs and shoulders someone (not _him_ personally, but someone) could hang off from. But sometimes they end up next to each other when they’re on the treadmill, or at the stretching area doing some warm-up/cool-off exercises.

Oh, plus Jaehyun is _nice_. A fourth unfairly positive quality. On the days Renjun is working out at the gym without his PT, Jaehyun will help correct Renjun’s form if he sees him struggling, but he’s never patronising about it. Renjun feels a bit embarrassed by the attention; he’s not close to Jaehyun, despite the older boy being Donghyuck’s current roommate. When they end up working out side-by-side, Renjun always gets self-conscious—Jaehyun looks cool and effortless, whereas he looks like a red twig about to snap.

One time, Renjun—overestimating his strength—had challenged himself to attempt the pull-up bar. Jaemin had bragged that he could do five reps and Donghyuck had teased that it would be a wonder if Renjun’s stick arms could even do one. Therefore, Renjun made it his mission to do two.

He had stared at that pull-up bar, tall and menacing and out-of-reach like the beacon of manliness personified (objectified?). He thought—how difficult could it be? He jumped to reach the bar, his body hanging straight and his legs off the ground, and tried to pull himself up.

His muscles quivered, his shoulders twitched, his arms burnt, and maybe he moved up a centimetre or so before his grip slackened. He tried again: gritting his teeth, he tightened his shoulders, feeling his biceps, triceps—whatever ceps existed in his arms—tense, and his head almost touched the bar but then he couldn’t hold on anymore and just about let go.

Large hands suddenly gripped him around his waist and Renjun nearly let go completely in surprise.

“Easy, it’s just me,” Jaehyun said cheerfully, practically holding all of Renjun’s weight, giving his poor arms a bit of reprieve. “Here, let me help you.”

“Oh,” He squeaked, his heart pounding in surprise, feeling his face warm from embarrassment. How long had Jaehyun seen him flop around like clothes hung out to dry in the wind? He flushed further when he realised that the older boy had positioned his chest against Renjun’s butt to hold his weight more easily. “Thank you hyung.”

“Are you holding onto the bars?” Jaehyun asked, his voice low and firm. Renjun nodded. “Good, I’m going to let go some of your weight now.”

Renjun gripped the bar tightly, his arms exerting strength to keep him up. “Your form is off,” Jaehyun corrected kindly, putting his hands on his shoulders. “You’re bunching your shoulders to get up—you should be pulling your shoulders down and back instead. Then use your arms and your upper back to pull up.”

He tried not to groan as he attempted to lift himself again.

“Wait,” Jaehyun placed a hand on Renjun’s tummy and he tensed automatically. “Don’t use your core or lower body to propel yourself into a pull-up, but you should still feel your core engaged when you do.”

“Let me fix your position,” Jaehyun said, proceeding to adjust him, and Renjun accidentally let out a strangled sound that only caused Jaehyun to chuckle. “It’s not a pull-up if you don’t feel like dying.”

Oh, Renjun _sure_ felt like dying.

“Alright, I’ll support your weight partially. Hold your form, keep your elbows in, abs tight and legs straight, okay?” Jaehyun instructed, splaying his hands over Renjun’s waist to hold him. “Now, on the count of 3, 2, 1.”

Grunting, Renjun pulled up, his arms screaming in protest and his chin barely reached over the bar, and then he huffed and slackened his grip, unable to hold himself up any longer.

Luckily, Jaehyun wrapped an arm around him, preventing Renjun from plummeting onto the floor. “Oof, I got you,” He said, holding him upright, allowing Renjun to sink into him, arms feeling like jelly. “You alright?”

He couldn’t answer but something in Renjun’s exhausted, breathless face must have tipped Jaehyun off. He laughed, easy and breezy as ever, “If you really want to master pull-ups, maybe you should try some build up training first. I could ask your PT about recommending some exercises if you want.”

Renjun’s dignity gave one last futile wave at the thought of Jaehyun instructing him to _train_ for pull-ups.

“Thank you, hyung,” He said instead, pressing his lips together to keep from adding more. It was then he finally realised that he remained practically plastered against Jaehyun’s chest, arms still around his waist, and he jumped away as fast as humanly possible, undoubtedly flushing once more. God, why was he acting so weird? He grimaced as Jaehyun only chuckled, and tried to distract himself by stretching out his aching arms.

He dimpled, “No problem, Renjun-ah.” Jaehyun clapped him on the shoulder, and Renjun tried not to wince. “You worked hard today. Make sure to apply some muscle cream when you get home, okay? It’ll help.”

“Okay,” Renjun agreed miserably. Somehow his little challenge had resulted in the most embarrassing interaction that he’d ever had! It was all Lee Donghyuck’s fault. Renjun wouldn’t have attempted something as stupid as _pull-ups_ if Donghyuck had just kept his big mouth shut.

Since then, he has been avoiding working out near Jaehyun. Renjun knows he is too kind to laugh at him but it’s too much of a reality check being so close to perfection. Instead, he likes to observe Jaehyun’s form farther away, mentally taking note of the best positions and admiring his godly physique from a safe distance. He tries to be subtle enough that Jaehyun doesn’t notice. His member would surely think Renjun is a creep for watching him so closely. Even if he can never hope to achieve such results, Jaehyun’s form and effort are certainly worth admiring. There was something about men with impressively athletic bodies—he’d always admired them.

Sometimes, he wishes he weren’t so intimidated by Jaehyun’s good looks and perfection. Renjun wants to know him more than smiles across the room, general pleasantries and gym talk. But whenever he tries to get close, he suddenly recalls Jaehyun lifting him up from the pull-up bar like a doll, the heat of Jaehyun’s palms splayed across his waist, how he felt the ridges of Jaehyun’s ab muscles against his back, and for some reason his mouth goes dry. It doesn’t make sense, but for Renjun it’s just another embarrassing tick on the checklist of reasons to leave Jaehyun well enough alone.

Renjun tried during Black on Black promotions to show Jaehyun he was a talented professional, but with sixteen other individuals vying for attention (in more ways than one), he hardly had a chance to stand out.

It was fine. He still had fun at the Black on Black promotions performing with Kun, Yukhei, Sicheng and Ten. Renjun decided optimistically that, if enough time passed, Jaehyun would forget his embarrassing debacle at the gym and he could make a better, cooler impression.

Unfortunately, barely a month after The Gym Incident, Renjun’s dignity takes another beating instead.

What happens was as follows:

Donghyuck had invited Renjun over to the 127 dorm to hang out, which Renjun eagerly grasped with both hands at the opportunity to escape the pigsty that was the Dream dorm. The 127 dorm was bigger, cleaner and had actual edible food in the refrigerator (or even better, a willing wallet to pay for delivery).

It wasn’t uncommon for the Dreamies to visit the 127 dorm, but Donghyuck, for all his maknae on top behaviour in 127, was actually a considerate member of the household. He usually went to the Dream dorm if he wanted to hang out rather than cause a ruckus at his own dorm and bother the older boys (and neighbours).

Occasionally he would invite the 00z over, though. On that day, it was just Renjun as Jeno was at MC rehearsals for The Show and Jaemin wanted actual rest. The two of them ate in Donghyuck’s room on his bed with the help of Jaehyun’s portable table, munching on fried chicken and tteok as they watched The Kissing Booth on Netflix.

Renjun wasn’t the biggest fan of romcoms, but Donghyuck kept hushing him every time he complained, promising it was going to get better. Renjun did some obligatory grumbling, finding himself watching his friend’s reactions more than the movie itself. He smiled as he watched Donghyuck pause, so enraptured by the movie that he left a piece of tteok dangling precariously mid-air. And because he was a kind, considerate person, Renjun snatched up the rice cake and pushed it gently into Donghyuck’s mouth, who was too caught up with watching the movie to even notice that he ate out of his friend’s fingers.

Renjun went back to nibbling absently on a piece of boneless yangnyeom chicken when he felt a nudge to his side, and glanced up to see Donghyuck opening his mouth, making an “ah” sound.

“You expect me to keep feeding you now?” he asked incredulously. “How lazy can you get?”

“I’m reading the subtitles. Can’t take my eyes off the screen,” Donghyuck said shamelessly without once glancing at Renjun. “It’s the least you can do after I paid for food.”

Renjun sighed, staring at Donghyuck, who only opened his mouth again expectantly like a baby bird wanting to be fed. “You’re unbelievable.” He grumbled, shoving a huge piece of chicken into Donghyuck’s mouth whole.

Donghyuck’s cheeks ballooned like a pufferfish as he struggled to chew, coughing a bit. Renjun helpfully thumped him on the back none too lightly, causing him to splutter. When he finally was able to swallow, and after a gulp of coke, he turned on Renjun with narrowed eyes, “Yah, are you trying to kill me?”

“Who, me? I would never… there’s too many witnesses around.” Renjun replied with an innocent smile.

“Pure boy, my ass,” Donghyuck grumbled. “I could have choked to death!”

“But you didn’t!” Renjun grinned, giving him two thumbs up.

“No thanks to you! All you did was slap me until my bones rattled,” Donghyuck complained, folding his arms. “Why didn’t you give me mouth-to-mouth?”

Renjun stared at Donghyuck. He must have choked on the chicken for longer than Renjun thought—his brain was clearly oxygen deprived. “You idiot, you need mouth-to-mouth when you drown! If you choke, then it’s the Heimlich manoeuvre! Turn around, I'll be more than happy to squeeze some sense into you.”

Donghyuck smiled unrepentantly, ignoring the threat and patting him on the shoulder, “Our smarty Renjun. I was just testing if you knew your first aid! You passed!”

“Sure,” Renjun rolled his eyes, munching on another piece of sweet and spicy chicken. “If I gave you mouth-to-mouth, the food might have gone further down your airway, so maybe that would have been better after all.”

“ _Ooh_ , Injunnie…”

He looked warily at Donghyuck, who clasped his hands together and leaned forward until his chin was on Renjun’s shoulder, batting his lashes exaggeratedly, “I didn’t know you wanted to kiss me so badly! Come here then, what’s stopping you?”

“Yah, you punk—” Renjun slapped a hand over the idiot’s mouth, but Donghyuck only licked his palm. Renjun reeled back with a screech. “Ew! You didn’t even wipe your mouth! Gross!”

Donghyuck cackled, taking advantage of Renjun’s disgust to push in closer, making obnoxious kissy noises. Renjun scrambled away until he couldn’t anymore, back pressed against the headboard.

“Come here, little boy,” Donghyuck puckered his lips, red from sauce and shiny. “You know you want it.”

“Ugh, get your nasty chicken lips away from me!”

Undeterred by Renjun’s attempts to push him away, Donghyuck leaned ever forward, eyes shining with mischief. He’d completely forgotten about the movie that was still playing in the background.

Renjun fought him off until he decided he had enough—the best defence was a good offence.

The next time he pushed forward, Renjun angled his face sideways and dropped his arms so Donghyuck surged into the crook of Renjun’s neck. As Donghyuck gasped in surprise, Renjun wrapped his legs around the other boy’s waist to flip them onto his back. Once he came out on top, he pressed a hand over Donghyuck’s throat to prevent him from getting up.

With Renjun’s palm spread wide, he could feel Donghyuck’s pulse thudding beneath his fingers as his friend stared up at him in shock.

“How do _you_ like that, little boy?” Renjun mocked, trying not to sound breathless.

He felt Donghyuck’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed under Renjun’s hand. “Is this some kind of power trip? Do you have a Napoleon complex? You’re really trying to choke me to death, aren’t you?”

“And you’re somehow still trying to piss me off,” Renjun accused, pressing harder, though not tight enough to restrict his airway. He didn’t actually want to hurt him. Maybe just scare him just a little.

Unfortunately, even lying on his back, his body pinned down by Renjun and in the midst of a strangulation, Donghyuck was cool as a cucumber. He relaxed with a smirk, eyes twinkling, “You’re cute when you’re pissed off.”

Flustered, Renjun’s grip loosened. Donghyuck immediately surged forward, face mere inches from his own, all smug self-satisfaction.

“So you like it when I call you cute?”

“You…”

Renjun didn’t even know what he was saying, his mind a blur of adrenaline, instinctive indignation, and maybe something else.

Their battle of wits was abruptly halted by the door opening.

Jung Jaehyun stepped in, bathing the room in warm light, fresh out of the shower with nothing but a small towel that was currently being used to dry his hair. Renjun could physically feel his brain power off.

Jaehyun looked like Michelangelo’s David brought to life. He was strength and virile beauty wrapped up in one, with golden proportions and possessing broad shoulders that tapered into a narrow waist, and abs so sculpted they had to be carved from a chiselling tool.

If Renjun were a patron of the arts, he’d insist that Jaehyun belonged in The Louvre, in long marble hallways and fenced off from the public, to be admired like a masterpiece from the Old Masters. He was a Renaissance sculpture brought to life—unblemished skin like marble, muscled like a God, and unclothed like he was unaffected by the mortal concept of shame.

Jaehyun smiled at them, and Renjun swallowed, his mouth dry. Water droplets rolled down the lines of his obliques. If Venus was made man, Renjun could vividly picture Jaehyun in Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus.

“Ew hyung, put that away,” Donghyuck’s annoyed voice broke Renjun out of his reprieve, and he finally averted his eyes, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment. “We have a guest over.”

“Ah sorry, Renjun-ah,” Jaehyun turned to the dresser for his clothes and Renjun fought not to steal another look, despite his artistic curiosity. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Renjun tried to make a sound of acknowledgement but his mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert. Who knew how long he had been staring at Jaehyun—did the older boy notice? Members changed around each other all the time, why did Renjun have to be so weird?

“Not everyone is used to you walking around naked all the time,” Donghyuck sighed.

“We’ve all been to the jjimjalbang, haven’t we?” Jaehyun teased, now in his pyjama pants, and glanced over at the two of them. “You’ll have nowhere to sleep if you spill food all over your bed.”

“But I can sleep with you, hyung!” Donghyuck retorted with a cutesy voice. Renjun choked.

Jaehyun only shook his head with a fond smile before he closed the door.

Donghyuck waited that long before shoving him roughly. Renjun toppled backwards with an oof. “What the hell was that?”

He stared at the white ceiling, blinking slowly as he gathered his wits, before sitting up again to glare at Donghyuck. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

“Oh, so your voice does work then,” Donghyuck looked Renjun over with scrutinising eyes. “Really though, what was that? It can’t be a modesty issue – I know for a fact that Jaemin struts around the dorm in his boxers.”

Donghyuck had a point. He wasn’t generally fazed by nudity, years of dorm life and quick changes in dressing rooms had accustomed him to boys’ bodies. He wasn’t (that) envious of abs—everyone had abs if they lost enough fat around their abdominal area. He had seen Jeno and Jaemin’s skinny boy stick abs and it never inspired any emotion in him. Not that Jaemin shared the same sentiment, acting like he was a cover model for Men’s Health, constantly parading around the dorm shirtless and flexing in front of the mirror, asking them to touch his abs.

But Jaehyun was a _man_. It was like going from 144p to 4k resolution. Maybe that’s why it felt so different.

“I was just surprised,” Renjun retorted defensively, folding his arms. “I wasn’t expecting to see… that.”

“Oh yeah? Is surprise what we’re calling it? This was you,” Donghyuck snorted, then affected a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, stupefied expression. “I think you drooled all over my bed.”

“Shut up! I didn’t!” Renjun smacked Donghyuck’s arm, his face heating up. “Do you think he noticed?”

“Kind of hard not to when someone’s staring unblinkingly at your bits,” Donghyuck reasoned, looking Renjun over surprisingly seriously.

Renjun found himself fidgeting under his scrutiny, fighting the urge to groan at the pronouncement.

One thing was for certain: his reputation in Jaehyun’s eyes was irredeemable.

He might as well quit while he had the chance. Jung Jaehyun surely believed he was some weird pervert now. Donghyuck was already staring at him like he couldn’t believe his friend could be so unbelievably stupid…

 _Oh_.

Renjun blinked. He’d forgotten how close they still were—Donghyuck was still half underneath him from their wrestling match earlier. Noticing his shift in attention, Donghyuck had just begun following his gaze when Renjun panicked, throwing himself dramatically to the side. He scooted farther away, burying his face in Donghyuck’s pillow—which smelled surprisingly nice.

“Kill me now! I’m an awkward loser who can’t be allowed around any of the hyungs. Just leave me here to die,” he wailed, flinging his limbs wildly in frustration.

He heard Donghyuck snort derisively, then giggle sweetly. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Junnie.”

Suspicious, Renjun peeked up at him.

Donghyuck smiled down at him angelically, reaching out to pet his hair reassuringly. “Everyone in NCT already knows you’re an awkward loser—it’s nothing new.”

Renjun bared his teeth, advancing on him on all fours across the bed, “Yah… Lee Donghyuck. Come here, I just want to talk—”

“You’re just going to try to strangle me again, you pervert.”

Renjun couldn’t control the high-pitched, mortifying sound that escaped him.

“I mean it’s bad enough that you enjoy choking people,” Donghyuck continued pleasantly, like he was talking about the weather, “but you should at least close your mouth when you’re busy ogling at someone’s di—”

Renjun threw himself at Donghyuck who immediately broke off into loud giggles, wiggling out of his grip and trying to get the upper hand, “You punk! I’m going to really enjoy it when I _shut you up_!”

“Pervert, pervert! Renjun’s a pervert!” he sang out as they continued to flail around the bed, nearly topping the food, cursing and laughing loudly.

Neither of them paid any mind to the movie’s credits rolling in the background.

**2018 July**

All idols know that dating is a career detriment and yet it’s a vice many choose to indulge in. Undoubtedly, romance in the entertainment industry is notoriously difficult, as no-dating clauses are standard within the artist contract. Whether the company chooses to enforce it like JYP Entertainment is another story. Some of the methods that Renjun has overheard boggle the mind—are they in a Cold War espionage movie or are they dating? He certainly gives credit to people for inventing convoluted methods just for romance.

A common way for interested idols to exchange info is to slip notes in CDs when they go to greet each other during comebacks. On music broadcast stations, Renjun has heard of idols who would trade notes when they walk past each other along the long hallways like spies exchanging information. A more reasonable method is to meet through patronising the same beauty salon as idols spend a fair amount of time there in relative proximity. If an idol is interested in another idol, they could also try to make contact through a shared middleman—staff like a stylist, hairdresser, dancer or personal trainer.

The one that takes the crown is the Inkigayo sandwich method, where interested idols would slip their phone numbers into the cling film of sandwiches at the Inkigayo cafeteria and gift it to their crushes. Logistical issues aside, it’s unhygienic and indiscreet, so Renjun has never actually seen this method in real life.

A better way for idols to date is through Direct Messages on their social media platform. It’s easy, discreet and doesn’t involve other people (unless you share an account with your band members).

However, the easiest way is undeniably to date your co-workers.

Months after Donghyuck teased him about his crush, Mark finally disclosed that he was dating Kang Mina, his fellow Music Core MC and former SOPA classmate. The Dreamies teased Mark to hell and back that he scammed her into dating him, but Renjun did think that they are a lucky couple. Most idol couples don’t get to meet up weekly, even if it’s for work purposes.

Honestly, seeing Mark dating should have been a wakeup call. He was nineteen years old—a certified adult in the eyes of the law—but it’s just weird because it’s _Mark_. If goofy, earnest workaholic Mark who’s responsible for so much second-hand embarrassment could get a girlfriend, then honestly, any member of NCT could too.

Especially one who exemplified Gao, Fu, Shuai like Jaehyun.

If anything, it should be _expected_ that someone as tall, rich and handsome as him was definitely not spending his nights alone. Renjun really didn’t know why he was so taken aback—so perturbed and uncomfortable when he found out.

Maybe it’s just the surprise of seeing Jaehyun locked in a clinch with the beautiful Joy of Red Velvet outside her room.

Yes, it must be the surprise. He just did not expect to see them together. Somehow Jaehyun just didn’t seem like the type of person to be with Joy. Sure, she’s gorgeous with a svelte figure, but she’s also older and his senior.

Not that it was Renjun’s place to pass judgement, but it just felt _wrong_ for them to be together. While multiple floors of the hotel were reserved for artists of SMTown Osaka, it was still a public place. Was this really the appropriate place for a rendezvous? They were literally demonstrating their _affection_ where people could walk right past! Nobody knew better than idols themselves that foreign hotels were sasaeng havens. As one of the most popular members of NCT, Jaehyun’s dating news would probably harm the group’s reputation.

And where did Jaehyun even find the time to date? NCT was practically promoting full-time this year, a month didn’t go by without some NCT unit comeback. Red Velvet was also so busy with their activities and Joy was filming for a drama too. How did they even manage to meet?

Even after their return to Seoul, the events still play on Renjun’s mind like a film reel. In light of the revelation, he feels even more foolish after because with hindsight, all the signs were there. Over the three days of SMTown concerts in Osaka, there were multiple instances where they interacted with each other.

On the first day, they had waited in line at catering and sat together at the same table. On the second day, Jaehyun had held Joy’s hand as they bowed after the last song. On the last day, at the restaurant Lee Soo Man had booked for their celebratory dinner, Joy had sat opposite Jaehyun. Renjun, who was three seats down, had seen Jaehyun personally grill meat for her. They even played drinking games with Johnny and Yeri, and Jaehyun was Joy’s valiant black knight who drank for her.

Renjun had been completely fooled. Johnny was outgoing and vivacious, he was already friends with the Red Velvet members from his trainee years, so Renjun hadn’t suspected anything when they drank, ate and played games. But Jaehyun was reserved—something like this seemed at odds with his personality.

The more he thinks about it, the more agitated Renjun feels. Objectively, he knows that Jaehyun is an adult entitled to date whoever he wants, but for some reason, something about this news sits wrong with him. Maybe he’s overthinking things, but this has made him re-evaluate what he knows about Jaehyun.

Jaehyun loves basketball. He was the forward in his middle school basketball team and he often plays pick-up games at the park with Mark. Jaehyun is kind—he’s surprisingly one of the hyungs Chenle is close to, perhaps due to shared mutual interests in sports. Sicheng says Jaehyun is super competitive, but his perfection doesn’t extend to his gaming skills, where Sicheng has to hard carry him in League of Legends.

Suddenly, Renjun realises he knows next to nothing about Jaehyun. How did the two of them get together? When did it happen? Why does he like her? It feels disconcerting that Renjun has been left in the dark for so long while Sicheng and Donghyuck and all of 127 apparently know. Dream is sort of separate from 127, but gossip of this sort travels down the grapevine. Do Jaemin or Jeno know? For that matter, does Chenle know?

Renjun has too many questions, so he decides to find answers. He can’t confront the source of his problems, but he can find the next best thing—the problem’s roommate and NCT’s resident gossip, Lee Donghyuck.

Sitting on said gossip’s bed, Renjun folds his arms and sighs loudly. Not that Donghyuck could see or hear—his back to Renjun, gaming headphones over his ears as he shouts at his teammates whilst playing Overwatch.

When Donghyuck’s team finally loses, Renjun leans forward to spin the gaming chair around, giving him an unimpressed look. “When you told me to come over, I didn’t expect to be staring at your back and listening to you fling insults the whole time.”

“You’ve got to admit they’re creative insults,” Donghyuck grins, pulling his headphones off. “Besides, you were the one who insisted on hanging. I told you I was gaming!”

“I thought you would have the decency to stop when I got here,” Renjun sighs, glancing at his phone to check the time, “but it’s been twenty eight minutes and forty one seconds since I arrived, and you’ve not said a single word to me other than some caveman grunting as I let myself in your room.”

“I was in the middle of a game,” Donghyuck defends himself. “Couldn’t get distracted.”

“And yet you had the mental capacity to call your opponents lily-livered lunatics,” Renjun says, sliding off the bed to stand in between Donghyuck and the desktop computer, preventing him from playing a new game.

“Ah, come on,” Donghyuck whines, reaching around Renjun to grab at the mouse and using his left hand to try to push Renjun away. “I haven’t played in ages.”

“Liar,” Renjun points out, smirking. “I know for a fact you stole Jisung’s gaming laptop and used it in Osaka. I was there when he complained to the hyungs.”

Donghyuck huffs, staring at Renjun exasperatedly, “I promised the guys I would game tonight. You wouldn’t make me break my promises, would you?”

“You’re not Taeyong hyung’s level. Honestly, I’m doing your teammates a favour by pulling you out of commission,” Renjun smirks, poking him in the cheek. Donghyuck only pouts. “Speaking of which, where’s Jaehyun hyung? Isn’t he part of the gaming gang?” Renjun asks casually, glancing over at the empty bed.

“Jaehyun hyung? I haven’t seen him since we landed,” Donghyuck says cluelessly. “And if we’re talking about cannon fodder, then it would him and not me!”

Renjun is instantly suspicious. Could Jaehyun be with Joy at this moment?

“How do you not know where your roommate is?” He asks, pretending to be blasé.

“I’m not his keeper, he comes and goes as he pleases,” Donghyuck pushes Renjun. “Will you move aside?”

“Does he come and go a lot, then? Is he ever in the dorm?”

“Why are you so curious about Jaehyun hyung?” Donghyuck drops his arm, looking at Renjun with a searching expression. He immediately backtracks.

“Well, I mean—don’t you find it a bit weird that he’s always out? It’s like- he’s an introvert, right? What’s he doing outside?” Even as he speaks, he knows he’s spouting nonsense, a sentiment echoed on Donghyuck’s face.

“Right—I think even you know how stupid you sound,” Donghyuck says bluntly and Renjun winces. “And I never said anything about hyung always being out—you made that assumption yourself. But I wonder why you’re so concerned about something that doesn’t affect you. Now that I think about it, you even asked me if hyung was in before coming over. Hmm…”

Donghyuck plays the fool so much that it’s easy to forget how clever and perceptive he is. Not that Renjun is making it particularly difficult for him at the moment.

Knowing that the ruse is up, Renjun makes to move away from the desk, gesturing at the computer. “It’s all yours!”

Donghyuck, however, traps Renjun between the table and his body, in a reversal of roles.

“Not so fast,” he says, with a wicked glint in his eye. “Unless you want me to tell Jaehyun hyung what you were asking, you better fess up.”

Renjun glowers. Donghyuck grins smugly, knowing that he’s caught Renjun in his net.

“Yesterday, when we came back to the hotel after dinner, I saw Jaehyun hyung kissing Sooyoung noona outside her door.” He relents, feeling his face flush as he recalls the image. It was an understatement to say that they were merely _kissing_ —was this the culmination of Jaehyun’s four years of American education?

“Ooh juicy,” Donghyuck starts, but then his grin fades and he looks suspicious. “Wait, why were you even there? The company puts men and women on different floors.”

“Yukhei spilt coke on my last clean shirt,” Renjun explains. “I went to find stylist noona to get a new one.”

Donghyuck’s expression clears up, “And then you saw them together? Didn’t expect to see anyone swapping spit in the hallway, huh? Sounds like it was quite a shock.”

That’s putting it lightly. He had just left his stylist’s room when he saw them a few doors down. Gobsmacked, he accidentally dropped his new shirt and crawled behind a room service cart so they wouldn’t spot him, as he continued to watch, horrified.

“So… are they… you know?”

Donghyuck just smiles, leaning back in his chair, “Are they what?”

Renjun isn’t trapped anymore—he has options. He could leave this room with some of his dignity left, or he can finish the job he came for. Frustrated, he bites out, “You know what I mean—are they _together_?”

Donghyuck, annoyingly, singsongs, “Well, they seemed to be yesterday, if what you say is true.”

“I didn’t hallucinate them! Sooyoung noona’s red hair is noticeable and Jaehyun hyung had on the same black jeans and green T-shirt he had been wearing at dinner,” Renjun retorts heatedly. “I know what I saw.”

“Okay, calm down,” Donghyuck orders, standing suddenly, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him over to his bed. He plops down, pulling Renjun after so they’re sitting side by side. Renjun yanks his hand back, glowering, “Look, what does it matter if Jaehyun hyung is dating?”

Renjun twitches and Donghyuck’s eyes track his response. “He’s—I. I just want to know. I’m a gossip.”

Both of them know that’s a lame excuse. Renjun tries again, “He’s so _perfect_ , you know? He looks like he comes straight from a Renaissance painting. And he’s so cool, but I was surprised such a popular member would risk it. He’s never mentioned anything about dating, so…”

“I don’t know about cool,” Donghyuck jokes, “but you know that he’s a person, right? He has needs like other twenty-two-year-old guys do. You talk about him like he’s a sculpture on a pedestal to be admired at the museum, never to be touched.”

“I know that,” Renjun huffs, “I just… Jaehyun hyung seemed _different_.”

“Hmm,” Donghyuck looks at him thoughtfully. Renjun finds it unnerving; he rather wishes that he hadn’t stirred up Donghyuck’s interest. “Now that you mention it, lately you’ve been paying a lot of attention to Jaehyun hyung. You stare at him whenever he comes around and you’re always asking about him.”

Renjun folds his arms defensively, “I told you I want to know the gossip.”

“You found out about this gossip yesterday but you’ve been staring at him for weeks.”

Renjun swallows, strangely nervous. “What the hell does that mean? What are you trying to get at?”

Donghyuck tilts his face, studying Renjun fascinatedly like he is a new species that’s never been seen before. “You _like_ Jaehyun hyung.”

Renjun stills, and then he laughs, a touch nervously, “Don’t we all? He’s a hyung I respect and admire.”

Donghyuck smiles like he finds this all very amusing.

“We don’t like him the way you do. You _like_ him. Romantically.” He states, casual as ever.

“I don’t!” Renjun snaps. Donghyuck’s knowing smile infuriating. How can he look so relaxed making absurd accusations like that out of nowhere? “I don't like guys. Stop trying to find gay bias just because _you’re_ gay.”

“Ooh, touchy,” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, his tone mocking Renjun. “I never said you were _gay_ , I said you like Jaehyun, who happens to be a guy. You might want to do a little self-reflection? Ask yourself why you’re always asking about him? Why you were drooling when he came out of the shower that time? Why do you care that he’s dating?”

“Shut up! I wasn’t drooling and I don’t care that he’s dating!” Renjun denies heatedly.

Donghyuck looks like he finds him pitiful, and that makes Renjun want to take a swing at his round, smug face.

“Of course not,” His voice drips with sarcasm. “You’re _totally_ not affected by him dating. You don’t care at all that Jaehyun hyung is in love with someone who’s not you.”

Renjun freezes. Blood races through his veins and his heartbeat pounds in his ears. He stares at the wall with the crooked Michael Jackson posters. He takes a deep breath, unclenches his fist, and refuses to fall into the trap.

Calmly, he says, “I was only interested because this is the first time I’ve seen people I actually know kissing in real life. You’ve all kissed people before, but I haven’t. I’ve never seen it outside of movies. It’s purely academic curiosity.”

Donghyuck snorts and Renjun’s hand twitches—it would be _so_ satisfying to slap him across the face. “Purely academic curiosity, huh?” He repeats flatly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re curious about kissing.”

Primly, he replies, “Yes, exactly.”

“This has _nothing_ to do with romantic interest in Jaehyun hyung. Only in kissing.”

“Definitely.”

Renjun wills himself to meet Donghyuck’s searching expression with nothing but honesty. It’s the truth that he’s never seen a couple kiss in real life. Public displays of affection are frowned upon in China. His parents were too busy working to be affectionate. These are facts: Renjun is eighteen, he has never been kissed, and he wonders what’s so great about it that Jung Jaehyun would risk his career just to lock lips with a girl.

“Okay, if that’s the case…” Donghyuck says at last. Renjun thinks he’s going to let it go, but this is Donghyuck after all. He licks his lips before they curl up into a smile of private amusement, and then—

“Kiss me.”

Renjun sputters—of all the responses he thought he would get, never could he have ever imagined this. He’s not sure what his facial muscles are doing, but it must look stupid because Donghyuck laughs.

“You’re joking right?” Renjun exclaims, immediately leaning away when Donghyuck scouts closer to him, thighs touching. “Are you crazy? I _just_ said I’m not gay!”

“So?” Donghyuck says flippantly, utterly nonchalant as Renjun freaks out. “Are Jaemin or Jeno gay? I’ve kissed them both too. It’s not… necessarily gay to kiss your friends. Consider it an initiation to the 00 line.”

“Well,” Renjun starts, frowning as he considers. He _doesn’t_ like the sound of Donghyuck kissing Jaemin and Jeno. “But _you’re_ gay though.”

“I am, but you said you’re not. Do you think gayness is contagious?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed for once. “If you’re straight, kissing me won’t convert you. Sexuality doesn’t work like that.”

Renjun bites his lip, worried that he’s offended Donghyuck. “I know that—you know I didn’t mean it like that. Wouldn’t it be weird for you?”

“Aw, are you worried that I’ll fall madly in love with you?” Donghyuck clutches his hands over his heart, fluttering his eyelashes, and Renjun glowers at him. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “Seriously, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean that I go around falling in love with every man I kiss.”

Chastised, Renjun is about to apologise when Donghyuck waves it away, saying blithely, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Luckily for both of us, I don’t harbour a crippling crush on you and I’m not secretly using this opportunity to seize my only chance of kissing you.”

Renjun scowls, shoving him in the shoulder, “You’re ridiculous.”

“A ridiculously good kisser,” Donghyuck wiggles his eyebrows. “10/10 would kiss again, great reviews. There are many worse people you could go to for your first kiss.”

“Jeno’s too nice to break your heart with the truth,” Renjun says snarkily. “And Jaemin didn’t know any better.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Donghyuck says wryly. “But if you’re so curious about kissing, go ahead and find out for yourself.”

Renjun flounders, “Well...”

Donghyuck looks at him challengingly, “If you’re only interested in learning about kissing and not Jaehyun hyung, as you claim, you wouldn’t be apprehensive about kissing me. If you’re not gay, why’re you afraid of kissing a guy? The way I see it, you have a crush on hyung but you won’t admit to it because of your fragile masculinity _._ ”

Renjun’s jaw drops. Indignant, he snaps back, “I _don’t_ have a crush on him. And you have a point! I have nothing to be afraid of because you're wrong.”

“Of course you don’t,” Donghyuck blows him a kiss and Renjun grimaces, moving away. This causes Donghyuck to smirk smugly, like he expected nothing less, and says, “It’s okay, Junnie. Just admit I’m right, and I’ll bring my scary lips away.”

Renjun makes an important discovery, then. This whole kissing offer is a bluff. Donghyuck never expected them to kiss at all because he never believed Renjun in the first place. He persists in the absurd belief that Renjun will be too scared to kiss him because he’s actually gay. It’s absolutely preposterous, but if the only way to convince Donghyuck is—

“Alright, let’s kiss.”

The astonishment on Donghyuck’s face is too delicious. The best defence is an offence, after all.

“You don’t have to,” Donghyuck says, immediately changing his tune. “Don’t you want to have your first kiss with someone you like?”

“I like you enough. I don’t care about this first kiss rubbish. I would rather have good technique,” Renjun smirks at Donghyuck’s flabbergasted expression. Lightly, he continues, smiling, “Like you said—it’s not like gayness is contagious. But if _you’re_ too scared to follow up….”

“Oh, Injunnie, you should know by now I’m a man of my word,” The fire returns to Donghyuck’s eyes and they spell nothing but trouble. “You don’t have to do this just to pretend.”

“A man? Hardly,” Renjun laughs mockingly, the words coming easy. “You’re all talk and no action, _big boy_.”

Both of Donghyuck’s eyebrows rise up at the provocation. “Alright, let’s do this. This is your last chance to back out.”

Donghyuck turns his body to face Renjun head on, gaze challenging as ever. He can tell Donghyuck still doesn’t believe Renjun will go through with it. Well, that’s enough to light the competitive fire in him.

With a burst of stubborn bravery, Renjun reaches out to pull the collar of his shirt to bring him close, situating himself half in Donghyuck’s lap, chests practically pressed together.

“I’m not doing this because I want to, I’m doing it because it doesn’t matter,” Renjun clarifies one last time, his eyes dropping to Donghyuck’s heart-shaped mouth. His heart skipping a beat when Donghyuck licks his lips, making them look shiny and pink.

“Big talk for someone within kissing distance.” Donghyuck teases, voice oddly gentle as his breath ghosts over Renjun’s lips. He should push Donghyuck away. He should hit him or pinch his smug face with far too many moles. Instead, he stills, closing his eyes, hands still fisted in the front of Donghyuck’s shirt.

His skin tingles acutely as if it senses Donghyuck’s proximity without sight, and his heart starts pounding faster. When he came over today, this was _not_ what he expected would happen.

“Relax,” Donghyuck places his left hand on Renjun’s shoulder, and the other over his cheek. His thumb rubs soft circles over Renjun’s cheek, getting him to loosen the tense set of his mouth. Renjun exhales shakily.

Donghyuck proceeds to smooth his thumb over the fullness of Renjun’s bottom lip, and his breath hitches in his throat. “Still okay?” he hears Donghyuck asks and he cracks his eyes open, huffing in annoyance at the delay.

“Just kiss me, you fool,” Renjun’s voice is more air than anger, and he frowns at Donghyuck’s chuckle.

Impatient, he surges forward to eliminate the last remaining centimetres to brush his mouth against Donghyuck, closing his eyes at the last moment before they touch, feeling his heart swoop like plunging off the cliff.

Donghyuck’s lips are warm and surprisingly soft, he tastes fruity sweet—a familiar taste Renjun knows but can’t quite place. One of Donghyuck’s hands moves from his shoulder to grip the back of his head, tilting Renjun’s face slightly so their mouths slot together more naturally, deepening the kiss, and _oh_.

Donghyuck’s mouth moves soft and slow, his lips gently guiding Renjun’s, alternating between pressing kisses over his top and bottom lip. Renjun can feel Donghyuck smiling, and he just knows that he’s being teased. He would normally yell at him, but he doesn’t want to separate their mouths. Not when it feels so good. Renjun brings his hand up to tug on the ends of Donghyuck’s hair and he gasps, mouth falling opening.

It all happens so fast—Renjun didn’t mean to do it—and then something wet touches his bottom lip. Renjun makes a small sound of surprise, not expecting tongue. Donghyuck moves to draw away, but Renjun instinctively leans forward with a whine, and Donghyuck chuckles quietly before returning to him.

This time, Renjun is prepared. Donghyuck’s tongue is warm and wet and it’s a bit weird at first, but he gets used to it. Donghyuck parts his mouth slightly, his tongue—smooth and slick—gliding over Renjun’s bottom lip. He gently sucks it between his mouth until Renjun gasps, feeling something like sparks lighting up his body. Renjun presses closer, gripping Donghyuck’s hair a little tighter, trying to tell him _more_.

Donghyuck captures his lips again, a little more enthusiastic now that he knows it’s welcome, giving light nibbles that drive Renjun the tiniest bit mad.

Renjun tries to reciprocate, copying the moves that’s been used on him, nudging his lips against Donghyuck’s cupid bow, pressing gentle kisses there before he tentatively licks into his mouth.

Donghyuck parts his lips to grant him entry, and Renjun maps out the feel of his mouth. It’s velvety smooth and the fruity sweet taste is so much stronger. Renjun’s curiosity drives him to slide his tongue deeper to figure out why it’s so familiar.

Unfortunately, he must breathe. When he pulls back for air, he finds himself light-headed, like he might topple over without Donghyuck’s hands around him.

As Renjun takes in deep breaths of air, Donghyuck laughs, his voice a little husky, “Breathe through your nose, silly. You’re a singer—you should have good breath control.”

Instantly, Renjun scowls, forcing himself to stop heaving for breath. “Show-off.”

Donghyuck grins, smug and unrepentant, “Not a show-off. I can just kiss without losing my head.”

Renjun gives Donghyuck a once over—rosy cheeked with red, spit-slick lips, his brown hair is mused, and his eyes are a bit dazed.

 _I did that_ , Renjun thinks with some amazement.

“So?” Donghyuck asks, smirking. “Verdict? Full marks? Five stars? Another glowing review to add to my growing collection?”

Renjun recalls that move Donghyuck had done, just gently rubbing his tongue over his bottom lip before sucking on it, and shivers. Donghyuck was annoyingly good but Renjun would die before he admitted that out loud.

He glances down so that he won’t be tempted to break into a smile, saying coyly, “You overestimate your talents, Donghyuck-ah. I think you could use more practice.”

Donghyuck’s eyes fall back to Renjun’s lips, and he leans forward, “Well, if there’s one thing we know as idols—practice makes perfect.”

Smiling, Renjun closes the distance, pressing their lips together once more.

(Perhaps more than once more. Renjun isn’t in the right mind to count.)

**2018 August**

Comeback preparations are a special brand of stress.

As if recording songs, practicing every millisecond of the choreography, shooting for the album jacket and an MV isn’t time-consuming and difficult enough—combine two members who are actively promoting with another unit, and then you reach a different height of stress.

We Go Up is going to be Mark’s last comeback before his graduation from NCT Dream, so there is double the pressure to do well so he can go out with a bang.

Renjun will personally admit that he’s not the best with stress. He’s not Mark, who can be in every NCT promotion, handle a weekly MC gig, produce music and maintain his relationship with his girlfriend. Renjun’s method of dealing with stress is unhealthy in the most literal meaning. He indulges in his favourite foods with no care to its consequences.

It’s not a great habit to have, especially for a singer. However, it’s a difficult habit to kick because the managers practically encourage it. The downside of Renjun’s incredible metabolism is that management has never forced him to diet, so he can eat whatever unhealthy garbage he wants. With long days at practice, the managers always have snacks on hand to boost their energy. This means that packets of his favourite sweets and biscuits are always available and if not, there’s a convenience store in the company building.

Renjun pays for it when food debris gets stuck in the lingual braces meant to fix his snaggletooth. As the dentist cleans his teeth, he gives Renjun a stern lecture about the foods he should and shouldn’t ingest if he wants that idol smile. For the comeback, Renjun decides that he has to temporarily say goodbye to his beloved sweets. He has never thought of himself as an addict the way Jaemin was with his black tar eight-shot Americano, but he finds himself going through sugar withdrawals—grumpy, easily irritable and more tired than usual.

Today, at practice, he wasn’t in good condition. He was slow on the beat, he had to take unnecessary steps to get into formations, and his body felt clunky and clumsy where he was usually light on his feet.

When Chenle happened to bump into him, it shouldn’t have caused him to fall. Were he in his right mind he would have realised that, but when Chenle—instead of apologising—joked that it was Renjun’s fault for falling because he didn’t eat enough, he just snapped. Renjun went off, saying that it was pointless to have such a big head if he lacked brains and couldn’t remember simple choreography. Jeno pointed out reasonably that Renjun had made mistakes too, to which he doubled down, nit-picking all the things Jeno had done wrong, snidely insinuating that he shouldn’t be in the centre with the mistakes he made.

Mark had put his foot down at that, snapping at Renjun to chill out before calling for a break. Renjun immediately stormed off, furious with the world.

He feels like a wild tiger locked in a cage, all this pent-up aggression with nowhere to go. He wants to get out of the company building to cool down, but he can’t even do that because he’s an idol now.

When the door to the vacant practice room he’d found opens, he whirls around, ready to defend himself against Mark’s impending lecture, only to find Donghyuck.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Don’t sound too elated,” Donghyuck snorts, tossing him a can which Renjun barely catches. He glances down—original Milkis, his favourite soft drink. “Were you expecting someone else?”

The can is cold to touch with no visible condensation. Donghyuck must have gotten it straight from the vending machine and came to find him. He starts to feel his anger dissipate.

“I thought it’d be Mark hyung, lecturing me about teamwork or whatever,” he sighs.

Donghyuck snickers, settling down next to him on the floor. “He thought about it, but I dissuaded him from the notion. As the residential expert on fighting with your teammates, I volunteered instead.”

Renjun smiles wryly, remembering the Markhyuck summer fight of 2017 which kickstarted their true friendship. He cracks open the tab, taking a sip of the sweet, milky carbonated drink before asking reluctantly, “How are they?”

“Jeno’s suffering,” Donghyuck says seriously but grins when he sees Renjun’s face drop, adding, “because Jaemin keeps slapping his biceps to see him flex. Serves him right for wearing that show-off muscle tank.”

Renjun scowls, “Yah, you made me think—”

“He’s okay,” Donghyuck drops onto the floor, sprawling out like a starfish, and Renjun sits down next to him. “He knows you didn’t mean it. He’s not upset.”

Still, Renjun feels a bit guilty, “I shouldn’t have yelled at him. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, he didn’t,” Donghyuck agrees easily. “But this is Jeno after all—he can do no wrong. He knows you were just stressed and tired. He’s not mad at you.”

Renjun wraps his arms around his legs, feeling fatigued and guilty all at once.

“This is Jeno we’re talking about—Saint Jeno, strong, sturdy, sweetheart Jeno,” Donghyuck sighs fondly. “Just tell him you’re sorry and it’s probably enough for him. If you really feel bad, buy him that game pack he wants.”

“He’ll never sleep if I buy him that.” Renjun says, even as he makes a mental note to do it. “What about Chenle?”

“Chenle’s fine. Jisung’s helping him practice the choreography,” with a quirk of his lips, Donghyuck adds, “I think he didn’t quite understand what you said anyway; you spoke too quickly and used vocabulary he didn’t know. If there’s a time when not knowing a language is an asset, it’s now.”

Renjun smiles despite himself, “Only you could make a backhanded compliment like that.”

“It’s a gift,” Donghyuck grins unrepentantly, then, in a softer tone. “Hey, you’re never that hard on him.”

Renjun groans, “I know I shouldn’t have but I’ve been so annoyed today. It feels like no matter how hard I work my body, I don’t get the results I want. All I get are pains and aches.”

“Ouch, I feel you.”

“Do you really though?” Renjun eyes him sceptically. “I went to the gym three times this week! My butt hurts just sitting down!”

“No wonder why you were so short with Chenle,” Donghyuck laughs—the bastard. “No snacks and getting your ass handed to you at the gym? You’re just a volcano waiting to erupt.”

Renjun scowls as Donghyuck continues to laugh. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Why’d you even go to the gym, anyways?” Donghyuck asks, trying to get his laughter under control. “Not like you have to lose weight and you’re certainly not going to get Jeno’s physique.”

“Way to rub it in,” Renjun jabs the soft part of Donghyuck’s tummy, smiling when he squeals. “Jeno claims going to the gym relieves stress, boosts endorphins or something. Jaemin seems to agree.”

Donghyuck wrinkles his nose, crossing one leg over his knee, causing the shorts to bunch up higher on his thighs. “Jeno is a gym rat. And Jaemin is just a weirdo with strange preferences, period. There are better ways to relieve stress than that.”

Renjun agrees, raising his can to salute him, “Getting fit and relieving stress? If it exists, I’m all aboard.”

Donghyuck snags the can from Renjun’s hands and drinks deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He catches Renjun’s eye, raising an eyebrow like saying _what?_

Renjun averts his eyes from Donghyuck's neck, only for his gaze to land onto his legs. In the MV for We Go Up, the stylists put Donghyuck in shorts, and from the gleam and smoothness of his skin, Renjun is sure he shaved his legs. The basketball shorts he's wearing right now reach just above his knee, but with Donghyuck's awful habit of hitching up his shorts, the material pools around his upper thighs, and Renjun thinks that he has nicer legs than any female idol he's seen. 

“Don’t get your slobber all over my drink,” he huffs, snatching the can back, taking a sip to quench his thirst.

“You weren’t complaining when we were trading saliva before,” even without looking, he can tell Donghyuck is smirking. “Come on Junnie, what’s a bit of spit between friends?”

Renjun makes the mistake of looking up; Donghyuck is closer than he expected, still rosy cheeked from exertion and his lips are shiny from the drink—it reminds Renjun of a much different activity.

Initially, Renjun feared that it would be weird being around him after he knew what that mouth tasted like. Luckily, Donghyuck remained his usual mischievous, loud and affectionate self, so Renjun’s doubts disappeared. Maybe it’s easy for Donghyuck to remain blasé since he has a lot of practice kissing members, but Renjun doesn’t like thinking about that.

He feels off thinking of Donghyuck kissing Jeno and Jaemin—doesn’t that mean he’s kissed them indirectly? That must explain when he feels off. He has no interest in kissing them. Renjun’s still a man. If—God forbid—he kissed them, he thinks they would kiss him like he is a girl. Renjun hates being treated like he’s a girl just because he’s slighter, not so built.

Donghyuck is the only guy Renjun would trust to kiss. He doesn’t treat Renjun like some fragile doll. He’s _gay_ so he doesn’t treat Renjun like a girl—he still gets to experience being kissed as a man. So, if he _had_ to practice on a member, he was glad it was Donghyuck. Only… now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t like that Donghyuck has also practiced kissing with them before—it makes him feel like he’s a collectible, just another statistic on his list. He doesn’t like that feeling. Maybe that’s why it has taken him so long to nail down his feelings regarding the whole incident.

Weighing the pros and cons now, he could confidently say that he doesn’t regret it. In Renjun’s admittedly limited opinion, Donghyuck is an annoyingly fantastic kisser. Plus, he is glad that his first kiss didn’t involve any painful clashing of teeth, bumping into noses and weird mouth placements that will make future him cringe and shrivel into shame.

All in all, kissing Donghyuck was a great decision. Not only did Renjun get his first time out of the way with a good experience—all while learning a few things—but he thinks that it actually improved their relationship. Maybe it’s a trust thing? Something like a team building exercise. Because now they have become closer and better friends. And to think that all this arose from him trying to clear up the misconception with Jaehyun to Donghyuck.

“Hey—speaking of fun ways to exercise,” Donghyuck says casually, playing with the hem of his shorts. “I read an article online that kissing burns calories and also relieves stress.”

“Really, now?” Renjun narrows his eyes, a smirk forming on his lips. “Because it kind of sounds like you’re just trying to trick me into kissing you again.”

Remarkably, he seems to have flustered Donghyuck, whose mouth forms a small ‘o’ in shock before he collects himself, protesting, “What? No! It’s true! Kissing _is_ a form of exercise. The article said that kissing releases chemicals that make us feel happy and lower stress, just like what Jeno claims to feel at the gym. Look it up if you don’t believe me!”

Renjun considers it for a moment—actually, he thinks he’s heard of that before. “So kissing is basically pleasurable, stress-relieving exercise.”

“Exactly,” Donghyuck nods determinedly. “It’s science.”

“During a stressful comeback, we need all the happy exercise we can get,” Renjun muses out loud. “And who are we to turn our backs on science?” Donghyuck’s eyes sparkle as Renjun gets on board with his idea. He feels more himself than he has all day. “Shall we shake on it?”

“I have a better idea,” Donghyuck murmurs, pulling himself to his knees so that he’s right in front of Renjun. “Let’s kiss on it.”

Renjun smiles as Donghyuck’s lips nudge against his, soft and warm and sweet. He forgot just how good it feels to kiss Donghyuck. How right it feels to tilt his head and part his lips, letting Donghyuck take away all the stress and make him feel so alive.

This really is the best decision Renjun could make. Because when they return to practice, Renjun is relaxed—his mood and performance improves, he apologises to Jeno and Chenle, and all is _right_ again.

Donghyuck winks at him and Renjun grins back.

See? A good decision.

Renjun steps out of the changing room first, smoothing down his clothes and fixing his hair, his lips tingling pleasurably. He looks left and right down the hallway surreptitiously, seeing no one, and raps on the door twice to signify it’s clear, and then he heads back to the waiting area.

“Renjun hyung,” Jisung calls out when he spots him. Renjun _knows_ it’s a greeting, but he can’t help glancing at the mirror, afraid that somehow evidence of the activities he’s just partaken in are displayed all over his face.

“Oh, Jisung-ah. Are the rest still in makeup?”

“Weren’t you just at makeup?” Jisung asks, confused. “I’m done and I've been waiting for ten minutes.”

Renjun checks himself at the mirror, ensuring that his makeup doesn’t look ruined. His lips are rosier than usual, but he can blame it on a lip tint—the just kissed lip look is very trendy. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh!” Jisung perks up, oblivious as ever. “Hyung, I saw this on Twitter.”

Warily, Renjun glances at the screen, “Jisung-ah, you really should be careful with what you read on Twitter. It’s not a good place for minors, there’s lots of weird content there.”

“You say this like _you’re_ not a minor,” Jisung huffs, pointing at the cracked screen once again. “Look at this! Some fans found the footage when Chenle and I performed at that concert in Beijing 2011! It’s kind of crazy how they made a post like this when just the other day we filmed the Dream vs Dream where we spoke about that. The universe is _weird_.”

Renjun makes a sound of agreement, reading the Twitter thread before snorting, “Jisung, did you even read it?” He shakes his head, and Renjun says. “If you read it, then you would have seen that they call you two soulmates. Chenji is heaven and earth in Korean, while in Chinese, it means all the stars in the universe.”

“Ooh, that’s pretty! I wonder if Chenle knows?” Jisung says, brightening, looking at the screen again. “Ooh, they’re calling us reincarnated souls… I mean, it’s _too_ coincidental that we’ve met before and then we got in the same group five years later without any contact.”

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Renjun asks.

“Well… I don’t _not_ believe in it,” Jisung says seriously. “I mean, after we die, where do our souls go? It would make sense if we’re reincarnated. Also, it explains why sometimes we click instantly with some people but are slow to warm up to others.”

“In Chinese, there’s this concept called yuanfen, it loosely translates to fateful coincidences but it’s more about the natural affinity between people, the chance that brings them together and the type of relationship they have,” Renjun says. “I think Chenle and you exemplify that. It’s too much for it to be a mere coincidence, there seems to be some higher power in the universe at work to bring you guys together.”

“Oh wow,” Jisung seems dazzled, as he often is when they discuss the mysteries of the universe. “So we’re _fated_ , we’re meant to be.”

“It’s kind of a difficult concept to explain,” Renjun says, thinking hard. “It’s funny that the post mentioned reincarnation since yuanfen has its roots from Buddhism, and a defining characteristic of that is all living beings are reincarnated. Which makes any unexpected and fateful meetings more profound and special, if you consider the statistical impossibility of reincarnated souls being at the same place at the same time.”

“That’s crazy! To just think we could be hundreds of years old or that we’ve known each other before, wow,” Jisung shakes his head. “Oh hey, speaking of yuanfen, don’t you think Jaemin and Jeno hyung have a strong connection? Or Mark and Donghyuck hyung? You and…”

Renjun’s lips still faintly tingle—if there’s anyone who he has yuanfen with, it’s Donghyuck, but the story of how he literally dreamt of him the night he applied to SM makes him sound kind of obsessed, so he says instead, “Maybe I’m a new soul and you’re all just old.”

“Maybe you were formerly an alien and now you’re a human,” It’s something so on brand for Jisung to say that it makes Renjun laugh. “Hey! You said _all_ living beings are reincarnated, and aliens are alive!”

Renjun laughs, half fond and half exasperated. “Oh, hyung,” Jisung taps his shoulder. “Do you believe in parallel universes?”

“Like a universe that’s similar to our own but different?” Renjun asks to clarify, and Jisung nods. “I have no reason to believe they don’t exist. Why do you ask?”

“So I was reading something,” Jisung says, fiddling with his phone. “It mentioned parallel universes, reincarnation and meeting the same people but they had different roles, you know? Like here we’re idols, but in another universe, we’re regular high school students, or in another one we live in a different country and so on. It got me thinking whether there’s another me out there.”

“Do you dream of becoming a famous footballer?” Renjun misconstrues his words deliberately. “Because you don’t need an alternative reality for that, it’s happening right now. The footballer is the OG Park Jisung.”

“Aish, hyung,” Jisung whines, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“I mean it’d be kind of cool to see what I get up to in a parallel universe, but it also could just be me as a regular person in China and I wouldn’t have met you guys.”

Just the thought of it makes him sad even though it’s a reality that was scarily close to happening. If he hadn’t been so angered by the sight of Donghyuck in that EXO variety show, if he hadn’t dreamt of him, Renjun wouldn’t be here, living out his dream. It's kind of unbelievable how influential Donghyuck is.

“That’s so depressing, hyung,” Jisung says. “Maybe you and Chenle would come to Korea as exchange students and all of us would be in the same school,” he suggests enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t that be cool?”

“Park Jisung,” Renjun says slowly, his eyes narrowed. “That’s oddly specific. Are you reading fanfiction again?”

“What? No!” Jisung denies, a blush high on his cheeks, and his large hands clutch his phone protectively to his chest. Renjun knows a liar when he sees one. “Okay fine, I didn’t mean to, but this one was really cute!”

Renjun massages his temples, “You know you shouldn’t read fanfiction, Jisung-ah. It’s hard to only see the good and avoid the nasty.”

Just then, their manager walks into the waiting area, and Jisung brightens up at his saviour, scrambling out of his seat. “Ah, hyung! Can I go to the convenience store to get something to eat?”

Renjun rolls his eyes as Jisung flees the scene; he’ll lecture him another time, after he deletes the bookmarks of fanfiction he’s read on his phone.

( _He was just curious. Curious about who the fans pair together and why. But_ _how did the fans know that Donghyuck is a good kisser? Does the physiology of Donghyuck’s heart shaped lips indicate that he excels at it? He’s kind of annoyed that they got this right—just another thing that Donghyuck is infuriatingly good at._ )

_It’s dripping love love  
Dripping dripping love love  
Tab Tab into your heart  
Deeper deeper more more  
Lightly at first  
I will wet you  
Fill you, overflow  
That is dripping dripping dripping love_

Renjun honestly doesn’t know how they got into this position. One minute, the two of them were polishing up their choreography, staying behind to get the moves down. The next thing he knows, they’re breathing heavily, looking at each other. Then Renjun is pushing Donghyuck against the mirror, kissing him passionately.

_The end was already decided from the beginning  
I don’t know if you can handle it, that’s right  
Who cares, I’m okay with anything  
After it gets pushed off, shook off  
And eventually flipping  
That’s what you wanted c’mon_

Donghyuck pants, his voice hitching into a broken off gasp as Renjun trails his lips down the column of his throat, mouthing at his Adam’s apple, and sucking at the delicate skin there, just above the mole. He seems to have chanced upon a sensitive spot, because Donghyuck keens loudly, his hands grabbing onto Renjun’s hips tightly.

_Everything is like that, the excitement is always dangerous  
Enjoy it to the fullest na na na na  
You can’t go back  
Even if it overflows, it’s still lacking  
No matter how much you drink it, you will be thirsty  
Game set the moment you wake up_

Renjun groans as Donghyuck yanks him back up, kissing him furiously and leaving no space between them. Renjun is a fire sign and Donghyuck is air, when they are together, he feels like his fire is being stoked to burn brighter, harder and faster with him. The atmosphere feels hot and heavy, and it’s getting to Renjun’s head, blazing away all his good sense, until all that remains is desire.

_Your heart has been washed away  
My heart has been attracted  
Keep playing keep going, you can’t stop  
The light can’t follow the speed of your heart_

Donghyuck is addicting. Renjun always finds himself wanting more, _needing_ more. It’s not enough—it’s _never_ enough. Renjun’s tongue is in Donghyuck’s mouth, they’re rubbing up on each other, and still he is greedy for more. He roams his hands down Donghyuck’s bare arms, and then Renjun smooths his palm beneath his shirt, hearing his enthusiastic groan, touching all that _hot, hot_ skin.

_Drip motion, action towards you  
Drip drip my emotions  
My feelings capture everything  
So there’s not a single dry spot, rain shower in your heart  
Love ain’t never shallow  
Go deeper inside plop  
Dripping love_

“Renjun,” Donghyuck moans into his mouth, and Renjun feels so _powerful_ , hearing him say his name like that. It’s just skin, but something about Donghyuck just has him feeling like it’s so much more. Donghyuck is so responsive, the airy, breathy sounds he makes are just musical, and Renjun can’t keep his hands off of him.

“Oh God, _Hyuck_ , ah!”

_It’s dripping love love  
Dripping dripping love love  
Tab tab into your heart  
Deeper deeper more more  
Lightly at first  
I will wet you  
Fill you, overflow  
That is dripping dripping dripping love_

He just wants to get closer, and it seemed like they share the same idea, because Donghyuck shifts, pulling Renjun’s leg around his waist to get a better angle, which causes this amazing friction which sends sparks up his spine. He throws his head back, moaning involuntarily loud, and before Renjun can feel embarrassed, Donghyuck does it again, grinding his hips against his leg, and the pleasure he feels is better than anything he’s ever done to himself.

_It’s too late to run away  
You started this game first_

Against his neck, he feels Donghyuck grin in smug satisfaction, and Renjun yanks on the ends of his hair, causing his breath to stutter. He pulls back slightly to look at Donghyuck, whose hair is an utter mess, his skin rosy flushed, and his eyes dark and hazy. His lips though… those heart shaped lips are red and bitten, shiny from spit. The tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip, before he says in a raspy voice, “Renjun…”

Renjun _wants_. He surges up to meet Donghyuck, who flips their position, even going to wrap both of Renjun’s legs around his waist and pinning him against the mirror. The pressure is incredible, rubbing him in all the right places, and he _feels_ Donghyuck against him, which might even be the best part.

The fire builds, builds, and _builds,_ and Renjun surrenders himself to be consumed in the inferno.

**2018 September**

Jeno giggles for the third time in two minutes and Renjun pulls out his earphones. In the silence of the room, he hears the fake keyboard sound of Jeno typing out a message before he locks his phone with a decisive click. A few seconds later, the Kakaotalk notification sound again and Jeno practically jumps up in his haste to check.

“Well, well, well, Lee Jeno,” Renjun declares, having had enough. “Who’s this mysterious person that has magically cured your ‘left on read’ disease?”

“What?” Jeno doesn’t even look up, his fingers flying across his phone suspiciously quick for someone renowned for being a slow typist. “What’d you say?”

“Who’re you texting? Your secret lover?”

“What?” He yelps, finally putting down his phone. “Of course not, it’s just noona.”

“Just noona, huh? Your trueborn noona?” Renjun asks sarcastically. “I never thought your admiration of Taeyong hyung extended to finding inspiration from his sister a la Whiplash.”

Jeno blanches, looking revolted, “I didn’t say it was my sister,” after an expectant look from Renjun, he adds in a quieter voice, “it’s Yeeun noona.”

Renjun examines the pink on Jeno’s cheeks thoughtfully. Jang Yeeun, the CLC rapper and Jeno’s The Show co-host. Renjun can’t say he’s surprised. He dropped by the MC dressing just the previous week to find them rehearsing their lines. He'd thought Jeno was oddly nervous in casual conversation with her. Plus Jeno always looked way too happy to wake up at the crack of dawn on Tuesdays.

“So you’re dating her, then?”

The blush on Jeno’s face grows and his shoulders hunch over, “I’m not.”

“But you obviously like her,” Renjun prods, torn between his desire to tease and being a good friend.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jeno sighs, looking too much like a kicked puppy as he slumps onto the cushion in his lap. “She doesn’t like me back. I think she sees me as her little brother.”

“How do you know that?” Renjun asks, trying to cheer him up. “Come on, she must like you if she’s messaging you all the time. Don’t think I haven’t seen you glued to your phone for the past week.”

“Noona is too nice to ignore people’s messages,” Jeno says gloomily, but still perks up enough to reply to a Katalk message with a smile that indicates it’s from Yeeun.

“No matter how nice she is, she wouldn’t spend all day texting you if she didn’t at least like you,” Renjun says reasonably, patting Jeno on the back. “Come on, if Mark can get someone to date his lame ass, you can too!”

Funnily enough, this seems to do the trick— _sorry, Mark_.

“How did he man up to confess to her?” Jeno asks, sitting up straight. “I get so tongue tied at the idea of telling her; how do I even try?”

Renjun recalls the one time he was genuinely confessed to—he’s sure that Jeno doesn’t care for his primary school confession and he shudders thinking about Chen Meiyi.

“How would I know? I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”

“But you have so many female friends,” Jeno says pleadingly. “You must know what they like.”

“You act as if they’re a different species,” Renjun snorts. “You have a sister too, and you interact with stylist noonas and manager noonas—think of what they would like.”

“But- but… that’s different! I’m not trying to impress them.”

Renjun doesn’t know anything about impressing girls. He’s never purposefully tried. Sure, he works hard to impress his fans, the majority of which are girls, but they all do.

“Look, girls are people too. Treat them with respect and kindness. Get to know their likes and hobbies. Be sincere when you confess and say why you like her.”

“She’s a pretty girl group idol. She must get so many confessions,” Jeno says, sounding dejected. “I’ll sound so dumb compared to other guys.”

“If you never try, you’ll never know,” When Jeno looks unconvinced, Renjun huffs, throwing his hands up. He has no interest in wooing girls. He’ll leave that to the bold and the reckless. Like Jeno, apparently. “Look! I told you I have no experience with girls! I gave you my advice and you didn’t take it. What more do you want with me?”

“Okay, but you have a celebrity crush, right? IU?” Jeno looks at Renjun expectantly. “Say you got close with her and you _thought_ you might have a chance. What would you do? How would you confess?”

“Jeno, have you forgotten that we’re idols?” Renjun sighs exasperatedly. “I chose IU because it fit the concept for Pure Boy Renjun to like the Nation’s Little Sister. None of our ideal types or celebrity crushes are real. We choose from the same tiny pool of famous female idols to avoid exposing our actual preferences.”

“I know that, but—wait, you really don’t like IU?” Jeno asks with a crease in his brow. “If you wanted to fit the concept, why didn’t you say someone from SM? It would fit the company line better.”

“I like IU’s music just fine, I’m just not interested in dating her,” Renjun is so done with this topic. “If I said I liked someone from the company, I might actually bump into her and that would be so awkward for both of us, especially since I don’t actually like her. It’s better to choose some distant idol that I won’t meet.”

Jeno looks confused still and Renjun cuts him off before he can ask another uncomfortable question.

“Look, better than having the blind lead the blind, why don’t you ask someone who actually has experience in confessing and dating an idol?” Renjun pulls out his phone, dialling Mark’s number before Jeno can react.

“What? No!!” Jeno jumps, trying to grab the phone from Renjun’s hands, but he expected that and runs away.

The line connects as Jeno chases him to the living room.

“Hi, Mark hyung, are you free to come over now?” He asks without preamble.

“Uh, yes?” Mark sounds confused. “Is everything okay, Renjun-ah?”

“Yeah, just peachy,” He says breathlessly, trying not to laugh as he plays chase over the dining room table, Jeno on the other side and both of them staring each other down. “Listen, _hypothetically_ , if someone is interested in dating an idol and wants to confess, what advice would you give?”

Jeno leaps over the table to grab the phone, and Renjun screams as Jeno tries to grapple the phone out of his hand.

“I’ll come over now.”

Renjun laughs loudly as Jeno gets the phone just as Mark hangs up the line. “Too late, buddy,” he grins as Jeno tosses the phone back to him, looking ruffled and unhappy.

“Why’d you do that?” Jeno moans, sinking into a chair and putting his face into his hands. “If Mark hyung knows, then Hyuck will too, and then he’ll tell Doyoungie hyung.”

Renjun pats him on the shoulder without any sympathy, “There, there. You’ll make it through. It's all in the name for love.”

Far too soon for Jeno’s taste, the door beeps open to admit Mark and Donghyuck entry.

“What’s he doing here?” Jeno cries, pointing at Donghyuck.

Mark sighs, “He overheard Renjun and insisted on coming over to give his unwanted opinion.”

“Um, rude much?” Donghyuck sniffs. “As the residential matchmaker, the reason why _you_ have a girlfriend, I think I’m more qualified to be here.” He waggles his eyebrows, “So, Injunnie wants to confess to his crush?”

Wait. Does Donghyuck think that Renjun is going to confess? Who would he even—he thought he had already cleared it up that Renjun did _not_ have a crush on Jaehyun! Besides, even if he did, Jaehyun had a girlfriend!

“It’s not me,” Renjun glowers at Donghyuck, jabbing a finger at Jeno’s direction. “It’s this guy who’s mooning over his co-host.”

“… Longguo-sshi?”

Jeno laughs like Donghyuck made the funniest joke ever. “I like Yeeun noona,” he confesses, a blush spreading over his face. He rubs at his cheek, “Oh God, that’s the first time I said it out loud.”

“The first step is admitting it,” Mark claps Jeno on the shoulders. “It feels better to admit the truth than denying it, right?”

Donghyuck clears his throat, staring at Jeno, “Um, how long have you liked her?”

Jeno blushes harder, “Um, since the beginning? She’s so pretty and she always took good care of me…”

Mark chuckles, “You really have it bad for her, man.”

Renjun turns to Donghyuck with a grin, looking to gang up to tease Jeno as they have before, only to realise that he isn’t laughing. He’s not even smiling. The expression on his face is one that Renjun doesn’t understand. If he would guess, he’d say that Donghyuck looks upset. Almost hurt? _Jealous_.

But why? Donghyuck is gay—he can’t be jealous of someone wanting to date Yeeun.

“God, there’s too much straight energy here,” Donghyuck says with a weird tone. “I don’t think I belong.”

Renjun looks at Donghyuck staring at Jeno but Jeno doesn’t notice him, too busy listening to Mark ramble about how to talk to girls and how to confess—his brow wrinkles as he feels that he’s missing something.

“What did you come for then?” Jeno pouts playfully. “You can’t even be relied on for help.”

Jeno hardly spares a glance but Renjun can’t seem to do anything other than look. So he sees how Donghyuck’s bottom lip wobbles a bit, how he stares at Jeno like he’s slapped him. Jeno doesn’t pay him any mind—Renjun wonders how oblivious, how _blind_ must Jeno be not to feel Donghyuck’s searing gaze on him. Then, Donghyuck looks down, blinking hard.

“I’ll be going then,” Donghyuck announces, his voice cracking, and he scurries away before they can even say goodbye. The slamming of the door catches their attention more than anything.

“That was weird,” Mark says, voicing the obvious. He shakes his head and turns back to Jeno.

Renjun looks at the door where Donghyuck had just escaped through. Why would he suddenly run away like that? He’d come over to give dating advice but bailed as soon as he found out it was for Jeno. What did Jeno do, other than tell them that he likes Yeeun? Donghyuck loves Jeno, so he couldn’t possibly think that his friend doesn’t deserve her or that he shouldn’t date, so…

Wait—his mind comes to a halt.

_Donghyuck loves Jeno._

That was it.

Suddenly his brain recounts all the times Donghyuck slept in Jeno’s body, how he tried to kiss Jeno, the fond tone he used to talk about Jeno, his casual habit of saying ‘I love you’ to Jeno and _only_ Jeno…

All this time, Donghyuck was looking at Jeno and loving him—

 _But he kisses you_ , Renjun’s subconscious whispers hatefully.

Did Donghyuck kiss Renjun thinking about Jeno? Handsome, muscular, smiley _sweetheart_ Jeno who made him soft? It was one thing to use each other for practice, it was another if he’d just been a stand in for Donghyuck’s unrequited love. Suddenly, Renjun feels sick to his stomach and he can’t stand looking at Jeno any longer.

“You guys are so in love it makes me sick,” Renjun says, half-jokingly. He really thinks he might actually vomit if he stays any longer. “I’m going to head out for a bit.”

He doesn’t even remember how they respond. Renjun goes outside, his mind spinning as he tries to decipher the tight feeling in his chest. He doesn’t like that Donghyuck is in love with Jeno. It’s—well, it's just bad practice! Everyone knows that falling in love with your band member is harmful to the group.

Besides, Donghyuck _kissed_ Renjun while being in love with Jeno—who does that? It’s perfectly justifiable for him to feel used and upset. Plus, it was Jeno—one of Renjun’s best friends and roommate. That’s who Renjun was a stand-in for. Why did it have to be Jeno? Why couldn’t Donghyuck like some nameless, faceless stranger instead?

Without thinking, he finds himself outside the 127 dorm, typing the passcode and pushing open the door to Donghyuck’s room before he knows it. He finds the lights off and a big lump of blankets on Donghyuck’s bed, Adele crooning mournfully about finding Someone Like You through the speakers.

“No, I’m not hungry, hyung,” Donghyuck’s voice sounds grouchy and hoarse. “Leave me alone.”

“Finally respecting your elders?” Renjun quips, pulling the covers off, revealing Donghyuck’s bloated, tearful visage.

Donghyuck yanks the comforter back and covers his head again, “If you’re here to laugh, then fuck off.”

Renjun sobers quickly—Donghyuck must be more heartbroken than Renjun thought if he’s not even bothering to pretend. His irritation at Donghyuck fizzles. Even if he has the audacity to fall in love with Jeno, to use Renjun as a place holder, now is not the time to be selfish and angry at him for falling in love with Renjun’s best friend.

Renjun crawls into bed, manhandling him until he has his chest pressed to Donghyuck’s back.

“You like Jeno,” Renjun says, his chest tight. He feels Donghyuck tense.

A beat, and then, “Yeah.” Donghyuck sounds so defeated that Renjun presses close to him, breathing in the sweet minty scent of his shampoo.

There’s a hitching of breath and Renjun squeezes Donghyuck’s waist tighter, hoping the pressure will ground him.

“Why do you like him?” He whispers, filled with a morbid sense of curiosity.

“He’s kind, he’s sweet, he laughs at my jokes like I’m the funniest person on the planet, he encourages me all the time,” Donghyuck says without thinking, like he’s ruminated this before. “He’s nicer to me than I deserve.”

Renjun bites down on his lip, feeling his heart hurt at the pain in Donghyuck’s voice.

“He was the first one who I told I was gay, and he never treated me any differently, you know?” Donghyuck’s voice wobbles. “He’d let me sleep in his bed and kiss his cheek and he just accepted me without thinking.”

 _Unlike some people_.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun apologises, thinking of how awful he was that day in LA. Of how afraid and fearful Donghyuck must have been to have this secret part of him exposed to the world’s—to _his_ —judgement. “I should have been better. You know I might tease you about _that_ but it’s never out of malice, right? To me, you’re still the same person who—” _inspired me to audition and brought me to Seoul_. He bites his tongue and instead says, “who stole my tonkatsu the first time we sat for lunch together.”

Donghyuck’s laugh is watery thin, “Jeno scolded me for that, you know? He said I was being selfish, and I was. I am. Selfish, that is. I’ve always known that I had no chance with him, you know? Even… even if he liked boys, I know I’m not meant for someone as good as him, but… I’m greedy. I always want more than I deserve. And he always indulges me. He lets me hold his hand, hug him and kiss his cheek, and I think _maybe I have a chance_ , just maybe it’s not all in my head.”

All the words fall out of Donghyuck’s mouth like a dam that’s burst. Like he has been holding back for so long and he can’t control it anymore.

“I say that he’s no jam but I don’t mean it… he’s just so cute when he’s pouting and he’s so funny when he doesn’t try, it hurts my heart just to look at him,” Donghyuck says, the words spilling out desperately. “I tease him a lot and he always lets me, just smiles at me so fondly. Sometimes, when I go too far, he goes and chases me down, and it’s so thrilling to get a reaction out of him. I just can’t stop.”

Renjun feels nauseous hearing about it for some reason. He tells himself that it’s weird to hear Donghyuck pine over their bandmate.

“God, I sound pathetic,” Donghyuck sniffles. Renjun clutches his hand and he squeezes back desperately.

“It’s not pathetic to have feelings,” Renjun insists, using his free hand to brush Donghyuck’s hair. “Donghyuck, it’s not wrong to feel. You didn’t ever do anything wrong.”

“I feel _too much_. Sometimes, when he smiles, I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. When he smiles _at me_ , I think I would do anything for him,” Donghyuck voice is shuddery and rough. “But I’ve _looked_ at him all these years and he’s never looked back.”

Renjun’s eyes burn and he blinks, feeling hot and choked up. He can’t listen to Donghyuck cry over Jeno—it’s breaking his own heart to hear it. A bleeding heart—he seems to feel what Donghyuck is feeling.

He tugs on Donghyuck’s arm to turn him over so that they face each other. In the darkness, Renjun can’t see Donghyuck’s tears, but as he brushes his fingers over his cheek, he feels the wetness. He tries to think of what he can do for Donghyuck to make him feel better, to take his mind off his heartbreak, and _especially_ off Jeno. He tries to think of what he could give him. And there’s only one thing Renjun has ever given him.

Kissing boosts dopamine and serotonin, which produces happiness, right? Well, right now, Donghyuck needs happiness more than ever.

He leans forward to kiss Donghyuck; he tastes salty from tears instead of his usual sweetness, like heartbreak and agony, and Renjun wants to erase it all. He wants to make Donghyuck forget about Jeno, forget about his pain, forget it _all_ and only remember Renjun.

Donghyuck stiffens and Renjun thinks maybe he doesn’t want it, that he’s miscalculated, and he panics. A small sob slips from Donghyuck’s throat but he has Renjun in his grasp, nudging their lips together again—a little rough, a little desperate. But it’s still Donghyuck, so Renjun likes it.

“I’m here,” Renjun murmurs against Donghyuck’s lips, carding a hand through his hair. “I’m here for you.”

**2018 October**

There’s no good time for heartbreak but perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise that Donghyuck’s came at a time of 127 promotions for Regular.

Mere days after the fact, Donghyuck jetted off to Los Angeles with 127. People often said that physical distance from the object of their heartbreak was good—well, he certainly heeded that advice by flying halfway around the world. Another frequently heard advice was to devote yourself to work—this might be the one saving grace to emerge from 127’s punishing schedule as the exertion might prevent Donghyuck from dwelling on Jeno.

Despite the hard schedule, Donghyuck still manages to find time to document his comings and goings, frequently blowing up Renjun’s phone with his updates. Over the course of the 8-day LA trip, Donghyuck must have sent a hundred pictures (none of them particularly good) and forced Renjun to answer his FaceTime calls.

Renjun would ignore his calls but his parents raised him to be a kind and generous person, so he answers. If he didn’t, Donghyuck would spam call him until he picked up and kept Johnny, his roommate, up all night. Renjun is simply looking out for 127’s health by responding. He supposes as the only person who knows Donghyuck’s emotional state, he also has a moral duty to ensure that his friend isn’t weeping into his pillow at night.

In general, Donghyuck seems to be doing alright. His pictures make it seem like he’s having the time of his life in LA and Renjun hopes that he is. When Donghyuck calls him late at night, freshly showered and buried in his comforter, just to tell him how his day went, Renjun feels this stirring of longing. This strong stab of yearning. He wishes he was _there_ with Donghyuck—not on the other side of the globe, looking at him through the screen, listening to his recounts.

Renjun doesn’t want to think about why he feels this way. Envy is a nasty emotion that all members deal with and inevitably, any comparison between Dream and 127 would just make him feel bad. Instead, he tries to practice gratefulness. Dream was the only Asian artist to be featured on Billboard’s 21 Under 21 2018 Music’s Next Generation list. The Dreamies all appeared on Time’s 25 Most influential Teens of 2018 list. It was better to look at the bright side of things, to be thankful for the blessings he received, along with Donghyuck. Even though now Donghyuck is having all these other experiences and success without him. He tries to ignore the snide voice in his head that said he sounds like the wife of a cheating husband trying to convince herself that it was all okay.

Tonight—or today, since it's early evening in Korea—Donghyuck calls him again, sitting on his bed, makeup removed. His bare face is endearing but Renjun is alarmed to see the dark circles beneath his eyes.

“How was your day?” Renjun asks, his eyes scanning his laptop screen as the call connected.

“Same old, same old. Too early wake-up call, hair & makeup, press junkets, lots of English…”

“You had the Apple Music gig today,” Renjun raises an eyebrow. “I would hardly call that same old.”

“Ah, are you keeping tabs on me now, Injunnie?”

“Unlike you, I have a good memory for schedules. It’s nothing to do with you personally.”

“The show was okay. The stage was super slippery,” With his pillow propped under his chin, it looks like Donghyuck is pouting. “It was like the Dream Concert in May all over again. Taeyong hyung fell kind of hard.”

Renjun frowns, “Is he okay? Are _you_ okay? You’re not injured, are you? The stylists shouldn’t put you in those Chelsea boots; they have no grip whatsoever.” He peers closer at pixels that made up Donghyuck, as if he could see him more clearly that way.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck waves his concerns away. “As long as we look good, it’s okay.”

“Your health and safety is more important, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Yes, Mom,” Donghyuck says sassily and Renjun rolls his eyes.

He peers closely at the doll Donghyuck is clutching, “Are you hugging the rodent again?”

“The _rodent_ , he says,” Donghyuck repeats, scandalised. “This is the Mickey Mouse doll we got for the 90th Anniversary event. It’s cute!”

Renjun brings up his cuddly Moomin doll to the camera, “ _This_ is cute. The rodent _isn’t_. I think it’s time for a visit to the optometrist—all the video games must have ruined your eyesight.”

“Mickey Mouse is very cute,” Donghyuck insists, even going so far as to do his signature aegyo pose with it, pouting with a finger over his lips while hugging the Mickey Mouse doll. “So cute!”

Renjun, refusing to lose to a rodent, copies Donghyuck’s pose and pouts with his Moomin doll. “We’re cuter!”

He glances at the screen to see that Donghyuck has dropped the Mickey Mouse and is looking intently. “Are you screenshotting me?” He asks in disbelief.

Donghyuck laughs evilly, “Oh God, this is gold. You should have seen your face.”

“Yah, Lee Donghyuck! Delete that!”

“Or what?” He smirks. “You’ll hit me? I welcome you to try.”

Renjun huffs, trying to find a threat that would stick, “Delete that now. Or else…” a strike of inspiration hits him, “or else I won’t kiss you anymore.”

It’s only after the words escape his mouth that he realises how _flirty_ he sounded. Renjun blushes red, seeing Donghyuck looking at him thoughtfully. “Wait—that came out wrong!”

“So, you were planning on kissing me then?” Donghyuck asks delightedly. He doesn’t miss a beat, leaning forward to the lens so that all Renjun sees is his full pink lips in a pucker.

“Ew,” Renjun mimes vomiting. “See if I ever do it again.”

“Oh Injunnie—haven’t you heard of the phrase ‘the lady doth protest too much’?”

“Whatever,” Renjun says primly, ignoring him.

“Aw, I know you love me,” Donghyuck makes kissy noises at him and Renjun gags.

“I’ve suddenly lost my ability to understand Korean,” Renjun says, in Korean.

Donghyuck laughs, and then yawns, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to stay awake. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s the AMA’s. The big event you guys went there for.”

“All the events we attend are big,” Donghyuck yawns again, looking very tired. He looks at the screen determinedly, “I want to talk to you.”

Renjun tries valiantly not to feel touched. “You idiot,” he says, voice soft. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. Get some sleep; we don’t want the American press to think that you escaped from the Train to Busan.”

Donghyuck pouts sulkily—Renjun tells himself that the only reason why he’s taking a screenshot is because Donghyuck looks ugly. “I tell you I want to talk, you insult me and shoo me away? I’m hurt. How could you say that I look like a zombie?”

“You could have taken it as a comparison to Gong Yoo, but I suppose even you can’t be that egotistic.”

Donghyuck pretends to cry, “You’re so mean to me, Junnie. I’ll never come back.”

“Oh, thank God,” Renjun grins widely, unable to help himself. When Donghyuck pouts harder, hair rumpled with puppy dog eyes, something in Renjun’s chest _jumps_.

He glances away, surprised, but is drawn back when Donghyuck whines plaintively, “Pay attention to _me_.”

“Fine, fine, you big baby,” Renjun tries to sound sarcastic, but it comes out too fond. “Go to sleep.”

Donghyuck hums, “I probably should.” He yawns but makes no motion to cut the call.

“Well?” Renjun prompts him, watching Donghyuck blink slowly through the screen, his heart inordinately fond and full. Was this how parents felt like when they watched their children? “Hang up then.”

“You hang up,” Donghyuck murmurs, his voice slurred from tiredness.

For some reason, Renjun doesn’t want to hang up. Instead, he watches Donghyuck close his eyes, hears the soft snuffling that comes from his slumber. He does look like a baby when he sleeps—sweet and cherubic. As he marvels at Donghyuck's peaceful sleeping visage, that same throbbing feeling returns in his chest again, so he finally cuts the call, worried that he’s coming down with something.

The feeling goes away, so Renjun shakes it off as a fluke. He’s too young to be having chest problems. Maybe it was heartburn or something.

When he goes to the kitchen to get something to eat, he bumps into Jeno, who looks unfairly good for someone just returning from the gym.

Jeno flashes him a grin as he makes his protein shake, “How’s Hyuckie?”

“What?” Renjun asks, pausing in the midst of taking out leftover pizza—a treat he indulged in while Donghyuck was gone because the idiot didn’t enjoy it.

“Hmm?” Jeno looks back at him in confusion. “Weren’t you just FaceTiming him? How is he?”

“He’s fine,” He replies automatically, watching Jeno finish drinking his shake, before he asks, puzzled. “How’d you know I talked to him? You were at the gym.”

“He always calls you around this time,” Jeno retrieves his ready-made chicken breast from the fridge, which he sticks into the microwave. “And you always walk around glowing afterwards. It’s kind of obvious.”

“ _Glowing_?” Renjun repeats, stupefied. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Like, you always look really happy and smiley,” Jeno says absently, more concentrated on his gross meal.

Something about the statement rubs him in the wrong way. “No, I don’t!” Renjun refutes, his voice oddly sharp. Jeno glances up, surprised, and he tries to get himself under control. “You’re making it sound weird. And he doesn’t call every day—he didn’t call the day before. What are you even trying to say?”

Jeno leans back, eyes wide, “Nothing, I—okay fine. He doesn’t call you every day. I just meant it’s sweet you love Hyuckie so much.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Renjun snaps, oddly disturbed by Jeno’s use of nickname for Donghyuck—he has _no_ right to call him by that pet name when Jeno causes Donghyuck so much grief. Also, “What do you mean by _that_? I like Donghyuck a normal amount!”

Jeno looks around like he wants to be somewhere else, but Renjun doesn’t notice. “Well, it’s just that you’ve been talking to Hyuckie a lot these past months. I just thought it was nice you two were becoming closer friends.”

“ _Friends_ ,” Renjun repeats, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him. Why was he feeling so out of sorts? “Right, we’re good friends.” He thinks of how he kissed Donghyuck goodbye for 30 minutes (though it only felt like 5) to send him off. But then, Donghyuck has kissed Jeno before, and his mood plummets.

“Yeah,” Jeno smiles tentatively. “I mean, you even changed your phone wallpaper to a picture of him. That’s a cute picture by the way—would you send it to me?”

Donghyuck had sent Renjun a picture of him grinning widely at Santa Monica Beach a few days ago. It was a beautifully taken picture; though it had been overcast, the setting sun had cast a subtle glow on Donghyuck, and there was even a rainbow peeking out amongst the thick clouds.

“He sent it to me,” Renjun says snippily, annoyed, just thinking about Jeno having this picture. What did he even want to do with a photo like that? Donghyuck would totally get the wrong idea if Jeno used that as his phone wallpaper. “Go ask him if you want it so much.”

“Okay then,” Jeno replies carefully, taking his plate. “I’ll just—go.” Jeno practically runs into his room.

Glowering, Renjun bites into his pizza moodily. Okay, he admits that he’s being a bit harsh to Jeno, but it’s difficult not to be. Renjun is just indignant on Donghyuck’s behalf. Donghyuck has been so heartbroken but Jeno waltzes around left and right with his eye-smile, hugs and biceps. It’s cruel of Jeno to lead him on—whether he fully realises it or not.

Jeno can’t possibly have not known about Donghyuck’s crush! For one thing, he has known Donghyuck is gay for years. Donghyuck practically confessed to him all the time! He kissed his cheek on Valentine’s Day, he got him Pepero on Pepero Day, it’s _obvious_ (even though technically Renjun hadn’t noticed until the Yeeun thing… but this wasn’t about Renjun!) Jeno has to have known. And yet he let it happen. He kissed Donghyuck, hugged him and let him sleep in his bed. He practically cultivated the crush!

Renjun can think back to a million moments where Donghyuck’s love is so apparent, it hurts him to even think about. Maybe he’s just an empathetic person. He’s sure that’s why watching the Recording Diary for the song No Longer pains him so much. In black and white, Donghyuck’s emotions—his pain, his yearning, his love—spill through the screen so devastatingly. His eyes are closed, unmade up, vulnerable as he lost himself in the music and sang the sweetest agony Renjun had ever heard.

The first time Renjun listened, he was brought to tears. And yet, he could not stop—Donghyuck was exquisite even in pain. The rawness of his voice conveyed the depth of his feelings. He sang with his hands clasped in front of his heart, as if he was praying to God. The overhead lamp spilled warm light over his head, casting a halo over his soft brown hair.

When he came out of the recording booth, seeing that he was dressed in orangey yellow—Renjun’s favourite shade—a colour that should only be bright and cheerful made Renjun feel like he'll never be warm again. Paired with Donghyuck’s eyes tinged pink and his hoarse voice, visibly worn down and tired—Renjun’s heart ached at the sight of him. Hearing Donghyuck sing ‘I love you, I love you, with all my heart’, just knowing that he was singing his most ardent and desperate feelings into song, confessing how much Donghyuck loved Jeno... Renjun could not help but cry.

Knowing how much Donghyuck hurt, how could Renjun not resent Jeno, even the tiniest bit? Donghyuck was the sun, bright and brilliant, glowing even in the overcast sky like his picture. He wasn’t meant to be clouded in sadness and despair, for tears to roll down his cheeks like raindrops.

Renjun desperately wants Donghyuck to be happy. And if spending time talking to Donghyuck brings him happiness—if being with him, _kissing_ him, can help—then Renjun is glad to do it. It doesn’t matter that it feels the early onset of a heart murmur.

Renjun would do anything for his friend.

“Renjun, dinner’s ready!”

If he were to consider the glass half full, he could appreciate that it was only this _break_ that enabled Renjun to enjoy Kun’s homecooked meals.

He leaves his room, drawn in by the fragrant smell of food, and smiles widely at the sight of dishes in front of him. There’s the ubiquitous stir-fried eggs and tomatoes, red braised pork belly, baby bok choy with garlic, and even slow cooked carrot and sweetcorn soup—all home comfort dishes.

Renjun’s stomach growls at the delicious spread, “You made all of this just for the two of us?”

“Yukhei will pester me if I don't leave some for him and I’m sure the other Dreamies will eat the leftovers,” Kun ladles soup into a bowl, handing it to him. “It’s just the two of us eating for now.”

Once Kun settles down into his seat and picks up his chopsticks, Renjun digs into the food. “Chenle will be upset to have missed your red braised pork belly,” He sighs happily as he bites into the deliciously sweet and fatty piece of pork belly, braised so soft it almost melts in his mouth. “He misses Shanghai food.”

Kun chews at a more moderate pace, “He lives with his mother and aunt—locals with decades of experience cooking Shanghainese cuisine. I think he’ll be fine.”

“I still think you’re the best chef,” Renjun compliments in between bites.

Kun rolls his eyes, but Renjun can see his smile behind his bowl of rice, “That’s because I’m the only person who cooks for you. Without me, you guys would have starved.”

“That’s wholly untrue!” Renjun exclaims. “You only moved into the Dream dorm late last year. We survived without you for a whole year before.”

“I’ve seen your cooking experiments,” Kun raises an eyebrow dubiously at him. “It didn’t look very edible.”

Renjun huffs, stuffing his mouth with more food, “We can’t all be prodigies like you who can cook, do magic tricks, produce our own music and be university graduates.”

“Soon you’ll be able to do all that too,” Kun’s lips curl into a smile, “maybe not the magic tricks—you’re too impatient for that. But you are attending my alma mater—the Beijing Contemporary Music Academy—where I learnt all that I know. I’m sure you’ll do well there.”

“You actually got to go there and attend classes. All I have is an Internet log-in access and a few pictures from the day of my admittance,” Renjun chews his food moodily. “The company should just let me go to Beijing. It’s not like I’m doing anything here anyways.”

“Renjun, you’ll have many opportunities,” Kun says encouragingly.

“What opportunities?” Renjun asks rhetorically, counting with his fingers. “Donghyuck and Mark are busy with 127. Jaemin has his English learning variety show. Jeno has a weekly MC gig. Jisung went to LA for the dance show. Even Chenle went on that show to Shanghai. It’s just unfair that everyone has activities but me.”

Kun looks at him steadily, calmly eats his rice, and Renjun feels his annoyance deflate. “Sorry for ranting.”

Out of everyone here, Kun knows most acutely how he feels. He had such a promising start—he sang in the Chinese version of Without U in April 2016, but he never got to star in the MV or go on any promotions for two years. Then, he was put in NCT 2018, but he had no lines, no dance centre moments and basically no screen time.

“I know how you feel,” Kun says, nodding. “Angry and bitter, left behind and forgotten. _I know_.”

Renjun looks guiltily down at the food. Kun was so _good_ and so upbeat that it was easy to forget how he had been neglected by the company.

“How do you do it? You’ve waited for so long,” He asks, his appetite gone. “How do you stay optimistic?”

“You have to stay optimistic,” Kun says, eating steadily. “You have to believe in yourself that you have a place in the company. Seniority doesn’t amount to much compared to perceived popularity and potential—look at the trainees who didn’t make it this far.”

“How did you manage to hold on for so long even when the company treats you like _this_?”

“You have to think about your future and what it is you want to get out of the company,” Kun says with remarkable composure. “I was in a weird limbo where I was a trainee but I also sort of wasn’t. I got tired of waiting; I told them I was going to Beijing to finish my studies. I thought about quitting, but I always wanted to work in music—even if I didn’t debut, the connections I made here went towards my future.”

“I suppose it paid off. You have a degree and a debut.”

“I’m not saying good things always come to those who wait or stay with the company,” Kun says seriously, placing some bok choy on top of Renjun’s rice. “You need to seriously consider what you want from the company and whether they can give you that.”

Renjun thinks of his parents’ expectations towards his career—of billboards and China Central Television appearances, becoming a household name that any Chinese person would recognise. He thinks of the current state of his career—the meagre lines he has in Dream’s songs, how he’s almost always pushed to the side in favour of the Korean members. He knows it’s not personal, but it feels personal.

“Sometimes, I think…” Renjun exhales, putting down his chopsticks with a clink. “I feel like a substitute in Dream. No, wait—hear me out. The Mickey Mouse Club Rookies were 5, right? But then Donghyuck and Mark debuted in 127, and the company wanted to debut Dream. Of the 5 members, only Donghyuck is a vocalist. They anticipated that 127 might have overlapping schedules with Dream, and then what? They’d just have 3 members and no singers. So they enlisted two vocalists, and that was Chenle and me.”

“I’m not in A&R so I’m in no position to confirm or deny,” Kun says earnestly. “But so what if they did? Forget about pride, it'll do you no good. The point is that they _saw_ something in you, you had something they wanted enough that they decided to debut _you_. When you graduate from Dream, you will still have more prospects than the Korean members who aren’t in 127.”

Renjun swallows heavily at the word _graduation_. After a moment, he gathers enough courage to ask, “Have they said anything to you?” He asks, his tongue thick. “Because they haven’t to me.”

“Management hasn’t mentioned your name directly, no,” Kun says, tapping his chopsticks to Renjun’s bowl to encourage him to eat. “But it’s no stretch of imagination to think that you will. You’re Chinese—where else will you go after graduation if not the Chinese unit?”

“WayV is debuting next year. I’m still in Dream, Chenle will be in Dream for another two years,” Renjun argues, contrary for some reason. “How will we even…”

“It’s not like SM doesn’t have a history of inserting members after debut,” Kun says logically. “Look at Super Junior or Red Velvet. Hell, even Johnny and Doyoung weren’t in the original 127 line-up in Fire Truck, let alone the addition of Jungwoo just this month.”

Renjun does find it kind of ironic that 127, touted for being the fixed group, has experienced more line-up changes than Dream, the graduation group. But he doesn’t like thinking about graduation, leaving behind his fellow Dream members. It’s weird for him not to see Jaemin, Jeno and Jisung even for a day.

He’s already goes without seeing Donghyuck for weeks at a time. Just the thought of this becoming the new normal is enough to make him feel lonely, like there is a piece of him that is incomplete.

“Hello, losers! Did you miss me?”

It’s the first time that Renjun has seen Donghyuck in person in ages (26 days, to be exact, not that he’s counting). The day after Donghyuck came back from LA, he went straight into Regular promotions. In between the usual promotional activities, he has to prepare for Simon Says. It’s safe to say that Donghyuck has literally been too busy to even sleep, let alone come find Renjun.

That’s fine. Renjun is an idol too—though not half as busy—he understands the constraints of the occupation. It’s only right to give Donghyuck the space he needs to promote properly, even if he misses him. He would have sought Donghyuck out more but after Jeno’s weird questions, Renjun thought it would be best if he was more inconspicuous. Was spending some time alone with your friend without wild accusation so much to ask?

Still, there’s this indescribable sense of relief in seeing Donghyuck again with his very eyes. It’s been far too long since he last saw Donghyuck. They didn’t even get to ride down to the venue in Busan together. That morning, 127 had a performance on Inkigayo, so Donghyuck and Mark came on a different van straight after their schedule.

“Donghyuck!” The rest of the Dreamies good-humouredly play along, producing great fanfare as they run to greet Mark and Donghyuck, who beams like he’s recharged from life just seeing them.

Across the room, he meets Donghyuck’s eyes and the smile he receives from his friend is dazzling. _He looks so good_. Just to tease him though, Renjun suppresses the instinct to go directly up to him, knowing that is what he would expect.

Instead, he bounds over to Mark, hugging him roughly, “Mark hyung, how do they even admit you back into Dream? Isn’t there an age limit?”

Mark squawks, though he still grins, “Missed you too, Renjun-ah.”

“Yeah, yeah—missed you too, hyung.” He pulls back from the hug, turning to call out to Donghyuck.

Renjun’s heart drops to his stomach and the words die in his throat.

 _Jeno_ is hugging him, lifting him clean off the ground and spinning him around like a Disney princess while Donghyuck clutches him tightly, laughing in delight.

“Let me down!” Donghyuck exclaims, though his tone suggests he is anything but serious.

Jeno does let him down, but he still clings onto him. In fact, Renjun would dare say Jeno is even snuggling up to Donghyuck. Jeno is taller, yet he presses his cheek against Donghyuck’s shoulder, looking so inexplicably fond and happy to see him. “I missed you, Hyuckie.”

Renjun wants to vomit.

“Aw, Jeno-yah,” Donghyuck cards his fingers around the base of Jeno’s neck, smiling at him so brightly, “I missed you too.” He pats Jeno on the head like a puppy, laughing delighted when _his crush_ nuzzles against his hand with a grin.

Renjun turns away, startled by the intensity of anger growing in his chest. Donghyuck _knows_ that Jeno is into Yeeun, but he still throws himself at him like that? Renjun feels abjectly furious, he thought that Donghyuck was _trying_ to get over Jeno, but the idiot turns around and does this?

He is only angry because he feels like he’s wasted so much emotional energy being indignant on Donghyuck’s behalf, just for him to turn around and squander it all by attaching himself to Jeno again.

He sticks close to Mark, using him as a barrier so when Donghyuck _finally_ pulls himself out of Jeno’s embrace, Renjun isn’t there. He luxuriates in Donghyuck’s momentary confusion at his absence.

Anything Donghyuck wants to say is interrupted by Jaemin, who smacks him in the head with cue cards. “Haechan-ah, you’re _late_ ,” Jaemin greets him with a bubbly smile. “We need to go through the MC script.”

Donghyuck is swiftly pulled into rehearsing his lines with Jaemin as the stylists’ bustle around to pretty them up. This suits Renjun just fine. He still feels aggrieved, especially when he sees that Donghyuck doesn’t even notice, playing and laughing around with Jeno, who curls up to him like an affection-starved puppy.

Usually, _Renjun_ is his partner in crime when it comes to dressing room antics.

By the end of the night, he’s in a horrid mood and he just wants to be in bed, away from the rest of mankind. If Jeno even thinks about gaming tonight—so help him God. Before he can even get to bed, they have to drive four hours back to Seoul, so Renjun would absolutely like to make a head start _now_.

Donghyuck, however, delights in making an absolute nuisance of himself. “Hyung, I’m hungry, we’re in Busan! I want to have seafood!” He appeals to the manager, who has been trying to convince Donghyuck for the past five minutes that they should leave for Seoul.

Renjun usually enjoys their managers’ gullibility but tonight he wishes that they would grow a fucking spine.

Mark looks dead on his feet. “Donghyuck-ah, we’ll be back in Busan another time. It’s late, let’s go home.”

“But I’m hungry! Hyung promised that we could stop at the rest area on the way here to get something to eat but we didn’t because of traffic!” Donghyuck whines, tugging on Mark’s arm.

Mark glances at Donghyuck’s pouting face and then at their managers helplessly. He takes a deep breath and then sags, and Renjun can feel him giving into Donghyuck’s wiles—well, not on Renjun’s watch.

“Yah, Lee Donghyuck, don’t you have a conscience?” Renjun asks sharply, too tired to blunt his words. “Mark hyung has been up all day working. Just because _you’re_ not tired doesn’t mean other people aren’t. Can’t you be more considerate to other people? Can’t you see that the rest of us just want to go home?”

Donghyuck looks hurt and Renjun feels annoyed—why does he have to pull these sad baby animal faces when he’s upset? It makes Renjun feel bad, like _he’s_ the bad guy.

“Come on, Hyuckie,” Jeno rubs his shoulder companionably. “We’ll get takeaway so that you can eat something on the way home, okay? It’s a bit late for sit-down restaurants to be open, anyways.”

“Look, Haechan-ah,” Jaemin chimes in, pinching him in the cheek. “Why don’t we let the elderly drive home first, and we’ll get some food to take away?”

Mark is too tired to even roll his eyes at the dig, leaning his shoulder against Renjun’s in support. The managers quickly agree, ill-disposed to argue with them. Mark and Renjun take one van, headed directly for Seoul, while the other Dreamies stop for food first before heading back.

To be honest, Renjun is a bit peckish, but pride held his tongue. Mark is so exhausted his eye bags seem more like black eyes, and he falls into an alarmingly deep sleep as soon as he climbs into the van. Renjun feels justified in acting the way he did, but Donghyuck’s look of hurt doesn’t leave his mind.

If Renjun is prideful, then Donghyuck is too, because there is no communication between them for two days. He tries to convince himself that the radio silence is because Donghyuck is practicing with 127 for their comeback, but when he sees all the texts that are sent in the group chat, it’s a difficult pretence to maintain.

They don’t meet again until the company Halloween party.

Renjun dresses up as Peter Pan, a none too embarrassing safe choice that was easy to execute. Donghyuck dresses up as his idol—Michael Jackson.

Renjun recalls the day Donghyuck taught him how to Moonwalk, which makes him feel nostalgic that it was just a year ago that he started getting to know the wunderkind that is Lee Donghyuck. As Billie Jean plays, Donghyuck fully embodies the spirit of his hero, and Renjun laughs as he pulls out several of the King of Pop’s signature dance moves.

Jeno, of course, then rocks up looking princely and handsome in his regal blue hanbok. Donghyuck is all over him, touching his arms and chest on the guise of examining the silk of his costume.

Renjun is so annoyed by Donghyuck’s disregard of common decency of non-molestation in public that he can’t even appreciate how handsome Jaehyun looks as Jack. It doesn’t help that Donghyuck purposefully mistakes Renjun as Tinkerbell.

All of this culminates in Renjun getting a bit drunk at the Halloween party. It’s not purposeful! The seating arrangement put him opposite of Donghyuck, who sat right next to Jeno. It would nauseate anyone to have to watch the two of them together.

Anyways, Renjun did not set out to drink. The food at the party was served buffet style. There were so many interesting food and drink items with cute Halloween themes that Renjun wanted to sample them all. It was only after he had several of the blood jellies that he was told they were Jell-O shots.

It was too late by then. The members were unsupervised by the managers and they were all enjoying themselves. The hyungs only smiled indulgently at them so Renjun saw it as tacit approval. With some alcohol in his system, the party didn’t seem too bad—there was good food and good company.

Renjun might be tipsy but he still retains some of his wits, cognisant of the fact that there were cameras and staff around in the restaurant. Other than extreme good humour, he doesn’t think he behaved anything out of the usual, and he’s very proud of the fact that others can’t tell he imbued alcohol.

“I want to sleep with Hyuck,” he tells his manager as he drives the Dream members back, “just drop me off at the 127 dorm.”

Donghyuck sputters, “Um, this is news to me?”

Renjun covers Donghyuck’s mouth, feeling his lips beneath his hand. “Be quiet, MJ.”

In a blink of an eye, they arrive at 127’s building and are taking the lift up to the dorm. Sooner than Renjun can process, he’s in Donghyuck’s room, watching him take off his sequined white glove.

Donghyuck has his back to him, so Renjun walks right to him, lifting the leather jacket up and slipping it off his arms. Renjun hooks his chin over Donghyuck’s shoulders, who tenses a bit before pushing him off, putting down his belongings on the dresser table.

“Donghyuck,” Renjun complains.

“So _now_ you finally acknowledge me, huh?” Donghyuck says archly, still not looking at him.

Renjun pouts, “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad,” he comes up to wrap his arms around Donghyuck’s waist from the back. “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

“Why’d you do it in the first place then?” Donghyuck huffs, turning around, his arms crossed so Renjun can’t hug him again.

Renjun frowns. He doesn’t want to think of sadness, he wants to float on a balloon of happiness, soar high in the sky, but Donghyuck is tugging his string back to the ground.

Donghyuck looks at him expectantly, and even Renjun’s most persuasive pout doesn’t make him relent.

“ _Jeno_ ,” he mumbles beneath his breath, grumbling, “you were all over him.”

Donghyuck squints at him, like he’s not sure he heard correctly. “Did you say Jeno?”

Renjun crosses his arms over his chest, scowling at the floor, and grunts a “yes”.

“You were upset with me since Busan! What does Jeno have anything to do with that?”

“You always play with him even when I’m there,” Renjun mutters, trying not to sound bitter. “He’s not even that funny.”

Donghyuck stares at him in disbelief, “Are you _jealous_ of Jeno?”

Renjun feels a red flush spread over his face that has nothing to do with alcohol. It’s his turn to look away, but Donghyuck steps into his personal space, examining him closely.

“Oh my God, you are!” Donghyuck laughs like this is the funniest joke ever. “You’re jealous of Jeno because of _me_. God, I was not expecting that.”

“Oh, haha, very funny,” Renjun scowls, hitting him in the arm. “You always drop me for him when he’s there!”

“Ah, darling,” Donghyuck coos, grinning and squishing Renjun’s cheeks. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay more attention to you from now.”

Part of Renjun grumbles at being treated like a child, but the other part of him preens at the attention.

“Whatever,” he huffs, plopping down on the bed, and Donghyuck follows him, still laughing merrily.

“You’re too cute, Injunnie.”

“I suppose you’re not too bad yourself,” Renjun allows, scanning him up and down.

“Such high praise,” Donghyuck snarks, making to removing his black fedora, but Renjun stops him by placing a hand on his wrists.

“I’m serious. You look good,” Renjun corrects himself. “I’ve never thought Michael Jackson was hot before.”

“Yeah?” Donghyuck tilts his head, curious. “Did you think I was hot tonight?”

“No,” Renjun shakes his head, his hand reaching up to touch those fake black curls. They feel like plastic, nothing like Donghyuck’s soft hair, so he withdraws. “But the rest of the time. I always think you look hot. You’re like the sun.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck smiles, glancing away. “I like drunk you—you’re honest.”

“And for all your bravado you can’t take a compliment,” Renjun retorts, touching Donghyuck’s cheek, feeling the heat of his blush. “That’s cute.”

“Oh, shut up, Peter Pan,” Donghyuck huffs, turning his head away but not removing Renjun’s hand. “MJ is cool, you’re the cute one.”

“Cuter than Jeno?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You know you are,” Donghyuck sighs, pinching him in the cheek. “Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ouch, that hurt,” Renjun pouts, finding all of Donghyuck’s actions amusing. “Won’t you kiss it better?” He turns his cheek for emphasis, tapping his cheek.

“What?” Donghyuck looks scandalised, even though Renjun’s just asking for a cheek kiss, even though they’ve done more wild things than that. “Renjun, you’re—”

“It’s just a kiss,” Renjun challenges him, leaning forward until they’re just a breath apart. “ _Scared_ , Lee Donghyuck?”

Being this close, he can see the exact moment that Donghyuck’s resolve falters, his lips falling from Renjun’s eyes to his lips.

Donghyuck swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “I won’t kiss you in costume.”

“What?” Renjun protests, leaning back to glare at Donghyuck, outraged. “Why not?”

Donghyuck seems to have recollected himself, smirking, “As I recall, you’ve said on multiple instances that you wouldn’t kiss me when I offered.”

“I don’t remember any of them,” Renjun huffs, leaning forward to try to kiss Donghyuck, but only grazing the corner of his mouth. “You _can’t_ have rescinded your offer!”

“He claims he’s too drunk to remember but he has the mental capacity to say rescind?” Donghyuck mutters to himself. “This Huang Renjun, really?”

“Yah, don’t avoid the question! You don’t want to kiss me?” Renjun wraps his arms around himself, upset about the rejection. “If this is about Jeno, I regret to inform you that the loser punched above his weight and conned Yeeun into dating him.”

“No, I know about that,” Donghyuck stares behind him, right at those Michael Jackson posters, before he fixes his gaze on Renjun. “Look, kiss me as Lee Donghyuck, okay? Not someone I’m _pretending_ to be.”

Renjun reaches up to touch Donghyuck, sensing that he has some double meaning but not understanding it. “Okay,” he agrees, taking off the black fedora for Donghyuck. “It’s super weird to kiss a dead, old guy anyways.”

Donghyuck chuckles, tapping his fingers against Renjun’s lips, yanking them back before he could bite them. “God, drunk Renjun is a _riot_ ,” he shakes his head fondly. “I’m going to remove my makeup now.”

Renjun watches as he takes a container of makeup wipes from the dresser and then starts scrubbing at his face to remove the layer of makeup. He’s absolutely _horrified_. “Stop, stop!” Renjun yells, springing forward to pull Donghyuck’s hand away from his poor face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, removing my makeup?”

Renjun doesn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “No, you’re not; you’re attempting a manual exfoliation with that kind of pressure on your face, you idiot!”

“Oh,” Donghyuck blinks cluelessly, half of his face normal with foundation, the other half scrubbed pink. “That’s what I always do, though.”

“You’re an _imbecile_ ,” Renjun jabs a finger into his chest. “Sit down. I’ll do it for you without the jjimjibang scrubbing you seem to think makeup removal is.”

Donghyuck laughs, sitting down on the bed obediently, and Renjun takes a seat on his lap. “Do you really have to sit on me though?” He complains, because it wouldn’t be Lee Donghyuck if he didn’t. “You have a bony butt. Got no fat on it.”

“Kindly refrain from insulting my butt when I have the fate of your pretty face in my hands,” Renjun snaps back, cupping his face gently despite his threat. “Also, if my butt is as bony as you say, why are you currently groping it like you’re testing beef?”

“Hey, I don’t discriminate on butts,” Donghyuck says with an irritating grin, squeezing his butt for emphasis and almost causing the both of them to topple over when Renjun jolts in surprise. “All butts deserve equal opportunities on being fondled and smacked.”

“Who’s the pervert now?” Renjun huffs, his cheeks red. “Also, will you quit it? That’s distracting.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, smirking that smug expression which Renjun recognises all too well and would dearly like to kiss—no, _smack_ —away. “Oh? So you think me touching your ass is distracting, now?”

“Oh my God, will you just shut up?” Renjun huffs, unable to come up with a witty comeback. He holds up the makeup wipes like they're his weapons, “Do you want me to do this or not?”

Donghyuck mimes zipping his mouth and places his hands low on Renjun’s hips, just above his butt. Renjun looks at him suspiciously but Donghyuck only blinks innocently and doesn’t move them any lower.

Taking a wipe with his right hand, he holds Donghyuck’s face still with his left, gently removing the makeup in light but firm strokes to reveal his bare skin. “This is how you do it, though wipes are bad for your skin.”

“I’m sure I heard my dermatologist say something along those lines too, but I’m a busy man.”

“A lazy boy, you mean,” Renjun corrects him. “Close your eyes.”

Donghyuck’s hands briefly tighten around Renjun’s hips but he stays still for the most part as he gently does away with the eyeshadow. He blinks up at him when Renjun pulls the wipe away, reaching for a clean one. “You really should use an oil cleanser to remove your makeup instead of these wipes,” Renjun lectures him. “These remove makeup so poorly.”

Donghyuck only smiles good-humouredly; Renjun just knows he has a smart comment hanging on his lips, so he covers his mouth with a hand, half expecting Donghyuck to lick it. He blushes when Donghyuck kisses his palm gently instead, the pucker of his lips soft.

“You’re such a terrible flirt,” he accuses, removing the last of his makeup.

The pleased smile that Donghyuck sends him makes his heart flip. Renjun removes the final layer of foundation to reveal Donghyuck’s bare skin, his moles peeking through. His eyes track the line of moles from Donghyuck’s left cheek all the way down to his neck.

“See something you like?” Donghyuck jokes, grinning.

Renjun makes no motion to avert his eyes. “Yeah.”

It’s clear Donghyuck was not expecting such a candid response, because pink blooms across his cheeks, and he struggles to find words to say.

He isn’t lying—tanned skin, round face, hooded eyes, puffy cheeks and that heart-shaped mouth. Donghyuck doesn’t have a conventionally beautiful face, not one that would be seen in galleries or magazines, but that just means it’s original, not a copy of someone else, and it invites the eyes to look at it over and over again.

“You have Ursa Minor, the Little Bear, on your face,” Renjun suddenly notes.

“Hmm?” Donghyuck blinks, before he realises. “Oh, you mean my moles?”

“Yeah,” Renjun says, amazed. Seven stars with four in a bowl, just like the four in a rectangle along Donghyuck’s left cheek. His fingers glide over his smooth, warm skin, starting from the mole just beneath his eye, tracing down the column of his neck, ending right in the middle of his throat. He taps the mole, just below Donghyuck’s Adam apple, and whispers, “Polaris, the North Star.”

How _apt_ , that Donghyuck is kissed by a celestial body. Ursa Minor, the constellation historically important because it’s traditionally used for navigation. How _right_ that he has Polaris, the North Star, which is fixed and motionless in the sky while all the other stars in the Northern sky revolve around it. The true North, a honing beam more accurate than a compass, steering lost sailors and guiding weary travellers to their location.

Not only is he the sun which planets revolve around, Donghyuck is also the most important star that other stars gravitate around. Oh, it’s a losing battle to deny the influence Donghyuck has on him.

It brings him back to Jeju, when they stargazed together, when Renjun showed him his favourite constellations, the time that made him first like Donghyuck. Polaris had been bright that night, even if Renjun had been more preoccupied by the shooting star. The answers are in the stars, and they lead him to Donghyuck.

Renjun presses light kisses along the stars that dot his skin, quietly reverent as Donghyuck’s breath hitches, especially when he gets to Polaris on his neck.

Donghyuck reaches up to touch Renjun’s shoulder, pushing him slightly back, his eyes dark, “Aren’t you going to remove your makeup and costume?” His other hand plays with Renjun’s pointy ear extensions.

“Why?” Renjun returns, amused. “You don’t want to kiss Peter Pan?” He smiles slightly when Donghyuck’s eyes drop to his lips.

“What?” He looks mildly disbelieving. “I mean, I can’t say I’m attracted to a little boy before.”

“So am _I_ the only exception to the men you like?” Renjun whispers, satisfaction curling in his stomach when Donghyuck blushes, his hands gripping his hips tighter.

“Take it off.” Donghyuck demands.

“No. I want to be Peter Pan.”

“Why? Why him of all the choices in the world?”

“Peter Pan is the boy who never grows up, who lives out his dream world in Neverland,” Renjun confesses.

Renjun didn’t tell anyone the real reason why he chose Peter Pan, but in front of Donghyuck, he crumbles. “He embodies eternal youth, a boy who never grows to take on adult responsibilities. He lives in a dream and he _never_ has to let go of that dream.” His voice cracks at the end, his eyes searching desperately for understanding in Donghyuck’s eyes.

Donghyuck, of course, understands, and his face looks anguished. “Renjun, if you’re talking about—”

“Don’t say it,” Renjun pleads, suddenly feeling the emotions that he’s pushed back bubble to the forefront. All his hopes and fears float to the surface, incapable of being suppressed. “Don’t say that word, I can’t bear to hear it. Donghyuck-ah, I don’t want to. I want us to stay like this forever. Everything’s changing, we’re growing up, and we’ll each go our own ways. I don’t want to be an adult, not like this. I don’t want to leave _Dream._ ”

_I don’t want to leave you._

Donghyuck embraces him tightly, his arms wrapped around Renjun’s shoulders, holding him like he might fly away like Peter Pan.

“God, Renjun,” Donghyuck says hoarsely. “Don’t say that.”

“I feel it, you know?” Renjun can’t help himself, the more tightly he holds onto the sand of worries, the faster they slip from his fingers. “I can feel the clock ticking, reminding us that we have so little time left.”

“Don’t think about that, okay?” Donghyuck pulls back, pressing their foreheads together.

“How can I not?” Renjun breathes, confessing. “I feel the distance more and more each day.”

“No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. _We’ll be okay_.”

There’s no sound but Renjun’s shuddering breath.

“Kiss me,” Renjun whispers.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck hesitates, a hand over his cheek.

“Kiss me, _please_.”

_Let me taste eternal youth—don’t let me grow up._

Donghyuck kisses him, warm-lipped and soft, and Renjun’s breath hitches. God, he’s missed this so much. He missed Donghyuck so, so much.

“I missed you too,” Donghyuck gasps against his lips. “I wanted to—so badly, in the States. You have no idea.”

“Take me to Neverland, Donghyuck.”

Renjun presses so close to him until they are tangled into one, so Donghyuck can kiss all his thoughts away, until the only thought that remains is _Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck_.

**2018 December**

Is there ever a time where going to the hospital evokes anything but fear, dread and despair? Perhaps so, but Renjun doesn’t think he will ever experience it.

It was just supposed to be a routine practice.

The eighteen of them were practicing Black on Black for the year-end stages. There were no new stunts or tricks, just the same choreography they had practiced in April. The mood had been serious but cheerful—127 had Simon Says promotions to do, WayV had debut preparations, and Dream… _was Dream_ —everyone was trying their best to get it down.

Then, Donghyuck had _collapsed_.

It had been Doyoung who shouted “Donghyuck!” but Renjun had already been looking at him, his eyes instinctively drawn to his dearest friend, who was on the ground, unmoving if not for trembling of his back. Renjun had not known what instinct it was that caused him to witness that moment—he was on the left of the stage for the entire choreography while Donghyuck was on the right—but at that fateful second, he had looked up and across the room to see Donghyuck _fall._

_This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper._

The music cut off. For a split second, it felt like time stopped. Renjun’s brain couldn’t compute.

Donghyuck—brilliant, boisterous, beautifully bold—subdued on the ground, was gasping in pain.

And then, the world turned back on, noise rising in volume, and everyone rushed over.

Doyoung cradled Donghyuck to his chest, trying to soothe him; Taeyong was right next to him, frantically asking what was wrong; Mark held Donghyuck’s hand, squeezing it tightly to offer some sort of relief; Jaehyun held his other hand, whispering that it was all going to be okay.

Their head manager was by Donghyuck’s side, trying to see what was wrong. Donghyuck pointed to his right knee weakly, merely touching it brought tears to his eyes. Another of their managers was on the phone, calling for a wheelchair to be brought up to transport Donghyuck to the hospital.

Renjun couldn’t even think—his mind in such a disarray, his feelings clouded in disbelief that he didn’t know what to think or feel. All he could see was _Donghyuck’s face_ … and then Renjun was right next to him.

Sweaty, pale-faced, and weak, Donghyuck murmured incoherently, “Renjun…”

“I’m here,” Renjun said, his voice strange. “Donghyuck, you’re going to be okay. We’re going to take you to hospital, it’s going to be okay? Just hang in there a little longer.”

Someone came with the wheelchair at long last and Renjun was forced to let go of Donghyuck’s hand so they could move him. The sound that he let out as they jostled his leg—an aborted scream of pain, full of agony, before Donghyuck bit down harshly on his lip, blood bleeding from the puncture—echoed in Renjun’s brain as they took him away. _Alone_.

“What do you mean we can’t go?” Renjun demanded. “We don’t have schedules tomorrow! Why can’t we go?”

If Renjun was in his right mind, he would have been more sympathetic to his manager, who looked stressed and overwhelmed. “We don’t want to attract unwanted attention. You guys can visit him tomorrow, okay?”

“You’re going to bring him to hospital _alone_? His parents are in _Jeju_! You’re going to make him go through this all by himself?” Renjun didn’t care that he was being disrespectful.

“Hyuckie doesn’t like to be alone,” Jeno looked up at the manager with wide eyes. “Let us visit him, please.”

“Hyung, it’s bad enough being injured and hospitalised,” Jaemin pleads. “It’s even worse being all alone. I know that too well. _Please_ , hyung.”

In the end, their head manager relented after the tears, pleas and threats from the members. With the hyungs all busy with their own groups’ promotions, the 00s were eventually allowed to go to the hospital. The managers put their foot down at Chenle and Jisung coming—which they continued to wail and moan about to no avail.

This brought Renjun to where he was currently standing in Donghyuck’s hospital room, listening to the doctor’s debriefing. With the X-ray in hand, she explained that Donghyuck had fractured his right tibia, where there was a clear snap, likely caused by physical exertion and too little rest. She ordered a month of bedrest and estimated that it would take at least 3 months before Donghyuck would properly recover.

Each word that leaves the doctor’s mouth deepens the lines on their grim-faced head manager. The news is absolutely dire—this had a huge impact on the group’s activities. After the doctor leaves, their managers follow suit, mumbling on their phones already, until the four 00s are alone.

“How’d you feel?” Jaemin moves close to Donghyuck’s bedside, fluffing up his pillows. “Are you in any pain? Did the doctor give you any meds?”

Donghyuck grins, “Oh, they pumped me with all the meds. It’s great! I feel amazing and light! Maybe this is why people are addicted to painkillers.”

Renjun flinches. He knows that Donghyuck is overcompensating, laying on the humour for levity, but his flippancy hits too close to home. “Don’t say that, it’s not _funny_ ,” He snaps, watching Donghyuck’s face fall.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck apologises quietly.

“Why are _you_ sorry?” Renjun shoots back, the words leaving without his control. “It’s not like you wanted it!”

Donghyuck stares at him with wide eyes and Renjun just feels so irrationally _angry_. Seeing Donghyuck so calm and casual just pisses him off.

Jaemin clears his throat, and Renjun glances at him. He had forgotten that they weren’t alone. Jaemin smiles awkwardly, “Haechan-ah. You haven’t eaten dinner yet so you must be hungry. Everyone knows hospital food is garbage. We’ll go get you something to eat, okay?”

“What—” Jeno doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Jaemin is pulling him out of the room.

The door closes with a click and it just leaves the two of them in the room. Donghyuck can’t meet his gaze, fiddling with the tag around his wrist, and Renjun takes his time to really look him over.

In the ill-fitting hospital gown, Donghyuck seems to shrink into himself, leaving him small and helpless looking in the white hospital bed. His hair is flat and he has no makeup on, with sunken cheeks, pronounced dark circles and a smattering of acne across his face. The doctor said the likely cause of his fractured tibia was from overexertion and Renjun can see it all too well.

Donghyuck’s only in this position because he was overworked and Renjun is _furious_. Furious that Donghyuck works himself so hard; furious that the company works him so hard; furious that he is going to miss out on the opportunities that he worked so hard for.

“Why does it seem like you’re upset with me?” Donghyuck asks, uncharacteristically timid.

“I’m just mad that this happened,” he snaps, eyes trained on the blanket at the foot of the bed.

Donghyuck isn’t one to mince words—he complains (playfully) at the smallest inconveniences, moans at the slightest discomforts, so his silence now is more telling than anything he could have said.

He can’t look at Donghyuck; just the sight of his leg causes Renjun to swell with anger. He had always known that Donghyuck (and Mark's) brutal schedule was unsustainable, might lead to burnout, but Renjun hadn't thought it would be like _this_. He takes a breath to calm himself. He knows that he has issues with anger; that his default position is to be angry at something to hide the fact that he’s afraid or upset.

When he looks up, Donghyuck is already looking back, and there are tears pooling in his eyes. Renjun immediately deflates, feeling like an awful human being, and rushes over to his bedside.

“Donghyuck,” he hovers over him, looking around uselessly for some tissues, “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shut up,” Donghyuck orders with a sniffle, looking pointedly away. “I’m trying, you know—I’m really trying.”

Jeno’s voice comes unbidden into his head— _he tries too hard_.

“I know you are,” Renjun says helplessly, trying to explain himself. “I- even though I know it’s not your fault you got hurt, it just makes me so furious. And then you just—I feel so bad when you pretend you’re okay. You _always_ do that. You just smile like it doesn't bother you. And I just—I wish you wouldn’t need to pretend.”

Donghyuck tenses, his arm wrapped defensively around his chest, “What do you want me to do? Cry? Scream? It doesn’t help anybody and it’s not going to make the situation better.”

“No, I just…” Renjun tentatively places a hand over his. He thinks Donghyuck might slap his hand away, but he laces their fingers together. “You don’t have to pretend, not around me.”

Donghyuck’s chest rises and falls, “If I cry… I’ll never stop,” he shakes his head, his eyes shining suspiciously bright. “It was supposed to be our last time to perform as seven in Dream, Mark hyung is _graduating_ …”

The wound is still fresh—he can’t finish his sentence without getting choked up, and Renjun understands. Mark is the pillar of Dream—he’s more than the leader, more than the butt of their jokes, he’s the person who has put his heart into Dream. Renjun doesn’t want to think about not being able to perform with him again once the month is over. Because Dream is _seven_. They will always be seven.

Taking a shallow breath to compose himself, Donghyuck tries again, “It’s my _first_ concert. I’ve—”

Renjun kisses one of Donghyuck’s hands, his own eyes growing wet. “Hyuck, I’m so sorry.”

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, his mouth pressed into a tense line, like he’s still trying to control his emotions. Renjun’s heart _aches_ —he’d do anything to make him well again.

“You can let it all out,” Renjun whispers, pressing kisses to his palm. “You can tell me if you’re hurt, or upset, or angry. You know that I won’t judge, right?”

When Donghyuck doesn’t respond, lips pressed tight, Renjun squeezes his hand. “Don’t you remember—you said that we’re in this together, right? You don’t have to hide bits of yourself to me. You don’t have to be Haechan to me; I like you the way you are, Lee Donghyuck.”

This finally provokes a reaction. Donghyuck chuckles mirthlessly, looking at him with dull eyes, “Haechan is the best part of me. He’s happy, bright, a mood maker and people’s battery charger; he doesn’t get hurt and he’s never afraid of rejection; you can shove him aside and he’ll just laugh.”

“Sounds like a pushover,” Renjun says lightly, knowing that Donghyuck would hate pity. “Luckily, Donghyuck isn’t a pushover. He’s prideful, mulishly stubborn, easily tired, hardworking but hates people knowing that it’s not effortless… he’s human and flawed.”

“Sounds like a terrible guy,” Donghyuck grumbles, hurt in his eyes. Renjun can’t resist pressing a kiss to his lips. Donghyuck can be so cute when he’s not trying his God awful aegyo.

“Donghyuck is more of an inspiration to me than Haechan could be,” All of a sudden, Renjun _has_ to tell him. “I… I’ve never said this before, but… you know the Mickey Mouse Club show, back in 2015? I watched it back home in Jilin,” Renjun ducks his head, embarrassed. “I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never thought I could be one because I wasn’t—you know—idol material. But I watched the show and I saw you. And it made me think that I could be an idol. That an idol could be human—an idol could be someone like me. So I guess… I guess you could say I wouldn’t be here if not for Donghyuck.”

By the end of his spiel, he feels his whole face is red, and he resolutely refuses to look at Donghyuck, just knowing that he’ll have _that_ smile.

“Renjun, look at me?” He asks gently.

Damn that Lee Donghyuck, because Renjun can’t say no to him. Tentatively, he peeks over to find Donghyuck smiling softly but dazzlingly at him.

“What?” He mumbles, looking back away, his heart pounding because it’s _too much_. That smile—it’s dangerous to Renjun’s heart. “If you’re laughing at me… I know I’m a loser.”

“I know I laugh at everything and I’m a jokester but…” Donghyuck swallows, lifting Renjun’s palm to press a kiss against his pulse point, “Renjun, that’s the most touching thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Renjun blinks, his lips parting in a whoosh. “Really?” He asks, anxiously. “I… you don’t think it’s stalkerish that I crossed the Yellow Sea just because of you?”

This elicits a laugh and Renjun can’t help but smile, even if it’s at his expense. “I hardly think you’re a stalker. You barely looked at me when you first came. Though I have to say, you have too many private photos of me on your phone.”

“Donghyuck!” Renjun exclaims, scandalised, looking around even though he knows it’s just the two of them in a private room. “You make it sound like I have your _nudes_! They’re just ugly photos of you!”

The smile that spreads across Donghyuck’s face is breath-taking, “Don’t sound so disappointed, baby,” he winks, and Renjun hates that his face flushes a little, “if you want pictures of my _nubile_ body, you’ve got to work for them! Methinks this little boy is a pervert!”

Renjun’s jaw drops, speechless in the face of Donghyuck’s audacity, he raises a fist mindlessly, “Why, if you weren’t in this hospital bed already, I’d certainly _put_ you there myself!”

“A pervert with sadistic tendencies?” Donghyuck tsks, grinning from ear to ear. “Why am I not surprised.”

Renjun’s first reaction is to choke him—in fact, he’s already reaching for Donghyuck’s neck, but his laugh only serves to remind him that he’s proving the point. Renjun retracts his hand, glowering darkly, knowing he’s blushing.

“You’re awful, just awful,” Renjun huffs lamely instead, trying to ignore Donghyuck but unable to.

“I thought I was your inspiration?” Donghyuck’s grin is gentle rather than mocking, and he brushes his thumb across Renjun’s knuckles to ease the sting of it. “The reason that brought you to Seoul.”

“Ugh,” Renjun drops his head down to bury his face in Donghyuck’s tummy, and he feels a light hand run through his hair. “You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?”

“I’ll never forget it till the day I die,” Donghyuck promises.

Renjun just groans, both mortified and slightly pleased for reasons he doesn’t know.

“Renjun,” something in Donghyuck’s cadence makes him look up, aware that it’s not just perfunctory teasing.

Donghyuck is looking at him, something indescribably soft and fond in his eyes, an emotion that Renjun can’t quite pinpoint.

“Renjun, I do trust you.”

He feels humbled, like he’s given a gift that he doesn’t deserve, trusted to hold something that he can’t hope to keep but would protect with his life. He knows this is in response to what he said earlier to Donghyuck, that he can be himself with Renjun, that he didn’t need to pretend to be something he wasn’t. There’s a rock in his throat, his heart beats fast, like a caged bird wanting to fly to the sun. Renjun feels so much that he can’t even describe what he’s feeling.

Without breaking eye contact, Donghyuck presses a kiss against the back of his palm, over his birthmark.

“Renjun, I…” Donghyuck swallows, looking more vulnerable than he’s ever seen.

He licks his lips, before saying simply, _tenderly_ , “Just… thank you.”

There’s a million things Renjun could reply with. ‘You’re welcome’ would be too perfunctory. ‘No problem’ would seem too menial. ‘What are friends for’ just felt _wrong_.

Words could never encompass what Renjun would like to express, so he reverts to body language, to something that they would both understand, something that could truly reveal how he feels.

Renjun caresses Donghyuck’s cheek, leaning down to watch his eyelashes flutter close, and then he kisses him. Deep and slow, tender and full of appreciation. This kiss feels like nothing else. It’s different from the hundreds of kisses they’ve shared before. It simultaneously skyrockets Renjun’s heart rate and makes him feel at peace.

 _Donghyuck_ , his body sings, _do you know what I mean?_


	3. Act 3

**2019 March**

It’s a straw that breaks the camel’s back.

The precarious House of Cards—torn down just by breathing too hard.

After being discharged from hospital, Donghyuck was sent back to Jeju where he was back under the care of his parents. They frequently talked on FaceTime in between Donghyuck’s doctor appointments and Renjun’s schedules. When Donghyuck was able to sing at the end of January for 127's first concert, Renjun was so relieved. Even if he had to sit the entire time because his tibia was not healed, Renjun knew Donghyuck much preferred that over sitting it out.

Everything seemed to be improving. In the beginning of March, Donghyuck’s doctor and physiotherapist gave him the greenlight that his leg had fully healed. He flew back from his parents’ home in Jeju, returning to Seoul to begin practicing in earnest to re-join 127’s concert tour.

Renjun worries about Donghyuck all by himself. With the lack of Dream schedules, he had sat in on some of Donghyuck’s concert practice. He knew how hard Donghyuck was working himself to get into concert ready shape. He pushed himself too hard, muscle memory warring against his current post-recovery musculature, his impatience to get back to pre-injury shape often leaving him in pain.

More than physical pain, Renjun is also concerned about Donghyuck’s mental state. He’s caught Donghyuck muttering the concert locations he’s missed— _Osaka, Hiroshima, Ishikawa, Sapporo, Fukuoka_ —like he holds a personal vendetta. He goes through dark moods where he just sits on the bed with the lights off, staring at fan taken pictures of 127 on tour. He glares at his schedule as if it’s a personal failure that he can’t join them.

It’s alarming, to say the least. Jaemin can be too overbearing with his nagging, he wouldn’t trust Jisung with a plant—let alone another human—and Jeno… well, Renjun doesn’t want to encourage Donghyuck’s crush on him. So it falls to Renjun to look after him. To remind him to take his medicine when his knee acts up, to give him a massage when he’s sore, to cook for him when Donghyuck can’t stand another second more and forgoes eating, to comfort him when he cries from frustration…

With the rest of 127 in the midst of the Japanese leg of the tour, flying in and out of the country for events and festivals, Renjun invited Donghyuck to stay over. Dream had moved into a spacious new dorm at the beginning of the year, and with WayV’s debut, there were only the four Dream members sans Chenle in it. Renjun even had his own room, so it was no trouble to have him sleepover.

Tonight, they’re in Renjun’s bed with freshly laundered sheets, a fresh woodsy candle burning by the bedside table, and watching the movie You Are the Apple of My Eye. Or rather, Donghyuck is watching the movie, Renjun leans against his shoulder, nibbling on strawberries from the bowl in his lap.

“Watch the movie!” Donghyuck huffs, jostling him off his shoulder.

“I’ve already seen it before when it first came out,” Renjun says lazily. “Your reactions are more entertaining.” He silences Donghyuck’s protest by stuffing a strawberry in his mouth. It’s rather endearing how Donghyuck is so captivated by the movie.

“You really are a cry baby,” Renjun teases as he wipes at Donghyuck’s face when the movie ends. “It’s just a movie, you know?”

Donghyuck sniffles, letting him dab his face with a tissue. “It’s semi-biographical! The author wrote the book based on his life and they adapted it to a movie. He didn’t get the happy ending, isn’t that just so sad?”

“Aish, you big baby,” Renjun bops him on the nose, smiling as Donghyuck clings onto him like an oversized koala. “They were high school sweethearts. Do you really think that people get married to their first loves?”

Donghyuck pouts, his lower lip jutting, “But that’s the thing! They never really properly dated! They just had a _some_ , an ambiguous relationship where they liked each other but didn’t get together. They went to separate universities, and then had a falling out because he organised that fight to impress her! They never even _kissed_!”

Renjun tries not to smile because Donghyuck is so invested in the plot, it’s rather cute how he rants, “It’s so upsetting because there were so many missed opportunities! They liked each other the whole time, but he wasn’t brave enough to ask her whether she loved him, and she was passive to his insecurities. Urgh!”

“Maybe they just weren’t meant to be,” Renjun offers, not remembering too much of the plot. This seems to be the wrong thing to say as Donghyuck’s jaw drops.

“It’s not that they weren’t meant to be,” Donghyuck argues heatedly. “The tragedy is the missed opportunity! Maybe they weren’t meant to be, but they didn’t even try because he was too cowardly to _ask_! It’s the fact that they let the opportunity slip when they could have been together which is the most lamentable, something they both commiserated when they were older!”

“Alright, alright,” Renjun debates between riling him up or to calm him down. In the end, his good sense wins out and he smooths a hand down Donghyuck’s arm, “that is pretty sad.”

“Humph,” Donghyuck harrumphs, mulishly chomping down on the strawberry Renjun pushes into his mouth to distract him from making a fuss.

“Aw, are you upset?” Renjun teases, pinching Donghyuck’s cheek.

Donghyuck turns the other way, nearly knocking over the bowl of strawberries as he lies down, whipping out his phone and steadfastly ignoring him. Renjun laughs quietly, placing the bowl on the nightstand and lying down too to throw an arm over Donghyuck’s waist, who leans back against him despite his temper tantrum.

Renjun hides a smile, hooking his head over Donghyuck’s shoulder to see what he’s doing.

“Nosy,” Donghyuck accuses, smacking one of Renjun’s arms around him.

“I couldn’t care less,” Renjun says dryly. “As if you have anything worth knowing.”

“Ouch,” he says dramatically. “You wound me.”

Renjun rolls his eyes, watching Donghyuck text his parents about his day. “How will your ego survive?”

Donghyuck chuckles slightly. The room is dimly lit, his bedsheets are soft and cool against his skin, there’s a soothing scent in the air, and Donghyuck around him. From experience, there’s no better way to get a good night’s sleep than this, and Renjun begins to feel drowsy.

“Oh, Mom says hi to you,” Donghyuck says, jolting Renjun from the realm of Morpheus. “She wants me to thank you for cooking and taking care of me. So thanks, I guess.”

Renjun blinks, trying to wipe the sleepy daze from his mind. “Your Mom knows about me?”

“Hmm? Yeah,” he answers, obviously not listening, still texting on his phone. “You’re my member, loser. Kind of hard for my family not to know about you.”

“No, not that,” Renjun frowns, “I mean, they know I’m taking care of you?”

“Well, duh,” Donghyuck says flippantly, still texting, “I talk to them basically every day.”

“That’s a lot,” Renjun thinks about his parents, who he video calls once a week. “Well, you should be mindful of the way you talk,” he says helpfully, “you wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?” Donghyuck looks at him bemusedly, turning around and lowering his phone. “What idea?”

“That you’re—you know,” Renjun gestures vaguely.

“I’m what?” He squints. “If you’re insinuating that they’ll realise I’m gay, then I’m happy to inform you that they already know.”

Renjun is sure his jaw has dropped to the ground. He came out to his parents? That’s insane. Everyone knows how conservative and narrow-minded Korean (and Chinese) parents are. “They _know_?! What? How?”

“What do you mean _how_?” Donghyuck exclaims. “I told them, they accepted it and they said they love me.”

“Just like that?” Renjun stares at him, flabbergasted. “They said it was okay?! But that’s—like that’s crazy!”

“And why is that so crazy?” Donghyuck sits up on the bed, and Renjun follows his lead.

“They didn’t say you’re a disappointment to the family name, a shame to your bloodline, how you should think about the family legacy?” Then, Renjun has an abrupt realisation. “Oh wait, sorry, I forgot. I mean, you may be the oldest son, but you have your brothers and a sister to carry on the family name.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Donghyuck snaps, his face pinched. “My parents accepting me being gay isn’t conditional on the family line being continued.”

Renjun winces, _that didn’t come out well_. Mollifyingly, he says, “It’s nice that your parents are liberal.”

“Liberal,” Donghyuck repeats, his expression growing stormy. “I think being accepting of your child should be the standard rather than something exceptional!”

Renjun is just about to agree when something occurs to him. He physically feels his heart stop a beat as his brain makes the thought, and then his heart starts pounding twice as hard.

“Wait, your parents know you’re _gay_ and you told them about _me_?”

“Yeah, so?”

Donghyuck doesn’t understand. At the sight of his irreverence, Renjun’s anxiety morphs into fury.

“You _introduced_ me to your parents?” Renjun explodes. He jumps off the bed, too worked up to continue being in close proximity to him. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Donghyuck returns, perplexed. “Why does it matter they know about you?”

“ _You_ , their gay son, introduced _me_ to them! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Uh, nothing?” Donghyuck approaches Renjun like he’s coming close to a feral animal and that infuriates him all the more. Donghyuck is pretending that Renjun is being unreasonable—it’s preposterous. “Let’s talk about this calmly, okay? Why are you so upset about my parents knowing about you?”

“You’re an inconsiderate brainless imbecile!” Renjun slaps Donghyuck’s hands off him. He feels _sickened_. “You told you parents you were gay and then you told them about me! You don’t fucking introduce your parents to someone unless you fucking marry them!”

Donghyuck is so shocked that he doesn’t react. He gapes, opening and closing his mouth, “It wasn’t like that! All I said was that you made me dinner and that I was sleeping in your room in the Dream dorm! That’s it!”

“That’s even fucking worse!” Renjun grips his hair, pacing back and forth, fearing the assumptions that Donghyuck’s parents thought of him. “You told them I was taking care of you, cooking and cleaning after you like a Goddamn housewife! That you were fucking sleeping in my bed! Do you know how that sounds?”

“Look,” Donghyuck reaches out, his face strained like he’s trying hard to stay calm. “You’re blowing this out of proportion—”

“No, I’m fucking not! You don’t just introduce random people to your parents in Korea, it doesn’t work like that! It’s just like China—you don’t tell your parents unless you have _serious_ fucking intentions! And you told your parents about _me_! It would be one thing if you told them you were dating some stranger but to tell them you’re sleeping with your bandmate?!”

“We’re- we all sleep together, that’s not—”

“You should _not_ have fucking told your parents about me!” Renjun folds his arms against his chest, forbidding Donghyuck from coming a step closer. “Now, they’ll have the wrong fucking impression that I’m dating _you_.”

When Donghyuck moves to argue back, Renjun silences him once and for all.

“I’m not _gay_.”

All the expression falls off Donghyuck’s face, leaving him stony and hard-faced, like a statue.

“What did you say?” He says flatly, his eyes searching Renjun’s, seeking for an answer that he doesn’t know.

Renjun throws his hands up. “I’m not gay! I’m not _dating_ you!”

“I never said you were gay,” Donghyuck says, slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. He looks at Renjun wearily, “There isn’t just gay and straight, you know. You could be bisexual, or pansexual.”

Renjun stares at Donghyuck. He can’t help it—he laughs, and Donghyuck flinches, “You’ve got to be fucking joking. You can’t seriously think I _like_ men?” The idea is absurd, and he can hear the meanness in his laughter, but he can’t control himself. Donghyuck watches him warily until Renjun finally sobers.

“Donghyuck, for the last fucking time, I _don’t_ like men.”

This seems to spark something in him, because all the calm evaporates from Donghyuck. He rounds up on Renjun, grabbing the front of his shirt, his eyes burning eidetically bright, “You’re going to look me in the eye and tell me you _don’t_ like men? Funny that, because I am very much a _man_ and you’re been kissing me for _eight months_!”

“That was—” Renjun shoves him back, glaring at him, furious that Donghyuck would twist it to suit his narrative. “That was practice! Kissing practice! For when I eventually date a girl! You knew that from the beginning!”

“Kissing practice?” Donghyuck laughs, mirthless and guttural, a harsh sound that he’s never heard before. He sneers, “Who the fuck are you trying to delude? Newsflash! Even professionals don’t ‘practice’ as long as we did. Dream practiced the debut song for less than eight weeks! Our tongues were in each other’s mouths for eight fucking months! Are you seriously telling me you needed that much fucking practice?”

Renjun is hit by the urge to find something to throw at Donghyuck, but he manages to control himself. He feels like he’s physically burning up from rage, his hands are shaking so hard.

“It was practice and stress relief! That’s what you always said, wasn’t it? When you kept coming back for more? It was nothing more than that, you delusional nutcase. Maybe you had some one-sided feelings, but for me, you were nothing more than a _poor substitute for a girl_!”

From halfway across the room, Donghyuck reels back like he’s been physically punched. The disbelief in his eyes quickly alters into stubborn anger, and he retorts caustically.

“A _substitute_? Is that what you’re calling it? Maybe you should take a hard look at the mirror because the only deluded one is yourself!” Donghyuck spits, his voice venomous. “You make it seem like it was so fucking difficult, like you were an unwilling participant, but may I remind you—you enjoyed it very much. You act as if you never came to me! As if you haven’t practically begged me for it? Are you going to pretend we never did more than kissing? That your body doesn’t react just as much as mine!”

Unwillingly, Renjun thinks of the time they made out against the mirrors in the practice room as the speakers blasted Dripping, or the time when Donghyuck pressed him against the mattress in their shared hotel room, or when Renjun straddled him and pulled his hair while kissing and he moaned. Or all the other stolen moments in the dark, chasing friction, knowing Donghyuck could feel it too, as Renjun lost his head to anything but the feeling.

“That’s—that’s completely different!” He argues, his face steaming red from anger and embarrassment. “It’s lust! Hormones! I’m a nineteen-year-old boy with pent-up needs who can’t meet girls! It’s completely natural to get hard with that kind of physical stimulation! With my eyes closed, your mouth is no different from a girl’s!”

“That’s complete _bullshit_ ,” Donghyuck snarls, stalking close to him and grabbing him by the shoulders. “You’ve touched me all over, you’ve _heard_ me, you’ve called me by my _name_ —there was no fucking way you ever kissed me thinking it was some _girl_.”

“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Renjun pushes him off, feeling like a noose is drawn around his throat. “I never fucking wanted you.”

“Even if you never wanted me,” Donghyuck stays back, but his presence in Renjun’s room is suffocating. “But you can’t deny you’re attracted to men. You drooled when Jaehyun came out of the shower naked like one of his thirsty fans! You got so fucking jealous when you saw him with Sooyoung noona! That’s what started this whole fucking mess!”

“ _Shut up_!” Renjun screams, wanting to block out Donghyuck’s voice. The blood rushes to his head, his hand is on the base of Donghyuck’s neck before he can even think, but the miniscule reasoning in the back of his mind stops him. “ _Shut your filthy mouth_! You’re wrong! I never—I’m not gay!” Renjun trembles with fury. How dare he presume to judge him? What _right_ did he have to make these accusations?

Donghyuck stares at him, steadily and appraisingly, as if he doesn’t fear what Renjun could do to him. “It’s been eight months,” he muses, his voice calm and controlled. “I knew you didn’t want to admit it at first, but I thought you would have come round by now. I’ve been waiting for your dumbass all this time. Are you really that deep in denial?”

“I’m not denying anything! I don’t like men! I like girls!” Renjun screams, blood hot with violence.

“Girls?” Donghyuck smiles, only it looks patronising. “Name one girl that you have truly ever liked. You’re uncomfortable when a girl confesses to you, you don't have any female celebrity crushes, and you’ve never participated in any discussion with the boys about girls you’re interested in. You can lie to me, but you can’t keep lying to yourself.”

Renjun thinks of Chen Meiyi—how he had been more curious about her boyfriend than he was about her. He thinks of his reasoning behind choosing IU as his celebrity ‘crush’. He thinks of his silence when the boys spoke about the girls they liked. He thinks about how he had been fascinated by Jaehyun’s body. He thinks of the unbearably euphoric sensation of kissing Donghyuck, _being with_ Donghyuck, and he—

“Just because I haven’t liked a girl yet doesn’t mean I don’t like them!” Renjun’s fury and fear tear down the last vestige of his sensibility. “Stop pretending you know shit about me! You’re just projecting your own experiences onto me because you _want_ someone else to be gay too so you’re not the odd one out!”

“Projecting? Give me a break!” Donghyuck scoffs. He speaks with genuine conviction and Renjun can see that Donghyuck isn’t bluffing—this _scares_ him.

“Huang Renjun—you _like_ me,” Donghyuck states confidently, and then his voice softens, like he’s negotiating with a hostile foe. “ _Please_ , Renjun, if anyone understands what you’re going through—the confusion, the fear, the anxiety—it’s me. But don’t pretend that you don’t like me. That you’re not attracted to me.”

Renjun’s heart stops. He stares at Donghyuck—his bandmate, his fellow 00 liner, his friend, another _man_ … like Donghyuck? How could Renjun possibly _like_ Donghyuck?

“I don’t!” Renjun’s voice cracks. He clears his throat, feeling dizzy and nauseated, like he could throw up. His head spins from the overwhelming emotions. “I don’t love you! I’m _not gay!_ ”

He spins around, pulling open the closet door, needing a space to just _breathe_. His airways are constricting, his chest aches like it’s being compressed, and it’s _too much_. He tries to take a deep breath, but it’s a drowning man’s shallow rasp. He presses his hands to his eyes, trying to push the tears back up and away, refusing to cry.

 _I’m not gay, I’m not gay, I’m not gay_.

“Renjun?”

Donghyuck’s hand on his shoulder, his voice tentative and soft, like he’s _concerned_ , Renjun thinks bitterly.

Resentment floods him. What right did Donghyuck have to come in and throw these horrid accusations around? To get inside his head, causing him so much strife? Now, he was pretending to be this caring, loving person, as if he didn’t turn around Renjun’s world with a few words?

Those thoughts are enough to power Renjun back up, his every word acrimonious.

“The only reason why I kissed you was because I _pitied_ you. It was _sad_ seeing you mope over Jeno like a lapdog so I found an easy way distract you! You’re _pathetic_ for thinking that just because someone would kiss you and pay you the least bit of attention, it means that they love you! Haven’t you learnt that by now? No one actually wants _you!_ ”

The hand that Donghyuck had placed on his shoulder drops like a puppet with its strings cut. Donghyuck’s face, always so expressive, shuffles through emotions faster than a slot machine—going from shock, disbelief, hurt, anger and then finally landing on an eerie blankness.

It’s quiet—too quiet. Renjun begins to feel uneasy. He already has a sense he’s gone too far—even angry, even determined to shift the blame, he _knows._ His heart is pounding with nerves and anxiety—Donghyuck doesn’t seem to react, his face is utterly impassive, and that’s chilling.

Donghyuck’s anger is something he’s familiar with; they’re both argumentative and neither of them shy away from a confrontation. Donghyuck’s temper is like a volcano, it’s fiery hot, easy to raise and quick to disperse. This though—this is a tsunami, slowly, slowly building momentum from afar, the velocity of the water gaining strength, something fearsome that you can see incoming and is absolutely unstoppable, with each wave train becoming more ferocious.

Renjun takes a step back.

“You’re _not_ gay and you _don’t_ like me. That’s the answer you’re clinging to?” Donghyuck enunciates, cold and clipped. He waits a second, as if for Renjun to deny, but when nothing comes, he continues.

“Fine, I’m done. I waited eight months for you to reconcile with the facts—I thought you had _some_ modicum of self-awareness, but apparently, I gave you too much credit. That’s it.”

Donghyuck bends to grab his bag, tossing some of his belongings inside. Renjun watches, his mind trying to play catch-up about what’s happening. Wait— _why is Donghyuck getting his stuff, he shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on his leg, that shirt is silk he shouldn’t fold it like that…_

“You’re done?” Renjun repeats blankly.

“I refuse to humour you—this whole mess—anymore.”

Then the words actually hit him, and Renjun feels incensed.

“You were humouring _me_? Have you heard a single word I said?” Renjun demands, glaring as Donghyuck stuffs the rest of his things into his bag. “This whole kissing thing was for you! You were the one who insisted you didn’t fall in love with every boy you kiss! That it was all friendly! It’s not my fucking fault you lied to yourself, so fuck off with the guilt trip and quit making this sound like a breakup. If anyone’s done, it’s _me_! _I’m_ done! It’s over!”

“Then I’m glad we’re on the same fucking page for once!” Donghyuck says icily. He throws his bag over his shoulder, yanking the door open. “Don’t even think of calling me while I’m on tour, I don’t want to get nightmares seeing your face.”

Renjun’s jaw drops, he chases Donghyuck out of his room, determined to get the last word. “Why would I even want to hear your voice again after this, you deluded narcissist!”

“ _Go to hell_.”

Donghyuck flips him the finger without even looking at him as he walks out the front door. Renjun, enraged, grabs the first thing he sees and throws it at him.

The door slams before it can hit him and the mug shatters into a million pieces.

In the ensuing silence, all Renjun can hear is his laboured breathing amidst the stifling silence. This can’t really be happening. He stares at the door for a long moment, wondering wildly if Donghyuck is going pop back in, grinning that it’s a practical joke.

After watching the door for more than ten minutes, _Donghyuck doesn’t come back_.

With a heart that feels heavier with every step that he takes, Renjun walks over to the door, crouching down to clean up the broken porcelain.

It’s the Moomin mug that Donghyuck had bought him, now broken into jagged shards strewn across the floor.

As he tries to pick the pieces up, he slices himself instead and blood wells up. Renjun stares at the rich red beading up beneath his skin, vaguely registering the pain, and then he starts to laugh.

The world has a cruel sense of irony.

Somehow, the laughing hiccups into tears, until Renjun sinks to his knees, sobbing into his bloody fingers.

**2019 May**

The month of May is characterised by a conspicuous emptiness.

Career-wise, Dream has laughably little schedules—five events for the fifth month of the year.

In terms of personal development, well… the less said about that, the better. The stockpile of tissues in the dorm has decreased disturbingly quick. He seems to be going through a box every week and he’s embarrassed about his usage but not for the reason people might assume.

With too much time of his hands, Renjun takes up cooking, attempting Chinese dishes at home—he hopes Kun would be proud of his efforts. Maybe then at least someone wouldn't consider him the world's biggest fuck-up.

After Renjun places two bowls of dan dan noodles on the table, he goes to the fridge to grab two cans of beer. He absently makes a note to buy more; a twelve-pack doesn’t even last him five days.

He cracks open the tab, clinks his can with his dinner guest, and takes a deep gulp. It’s funny how he used to be averse to the bitterness; now, it tastes like relief.

Renjun downs half the can before he picks up his chopsticks, inhaling the scent of stir-fried ground pork, mixed in with lashings of chilli oil and creamy sesame paste, and takes a big bite.

It’s quiet but for the sound of the air conditioner whirling distantly as they eat their noodles. Then, a phone slides toward Renjun, a photo drawn up on the screen.

“Hyuck’s in Chicago. This is him at Johnny hyung’s house—his Mom made them a whole feast.”

Renjun gazes at the image of a silver-haired, beaming Donghyuck, holding a paper plate full of food, being fed a bite of watermelon by a snapback wearing Jaehyun. He looks _happy_ , carefree, unburdened—untroubled by the regrets that haunt Renjun’s dreams and dog his waking moments.

“He looks happy,” Renjun says wistfully, unable to take his eyes away from Donghyuck.

A hand reaches down to tap on the Kakaotalk app, bringing it up to screen. “There’s more.”

Renjun reaches up to stop him, “Jeno, I don’t think Donghyuck would appreciate you showing me his pictures.”

Renjun doesn’t deserve to see Donghyuck’s private pictures, the ones he sends to his loved ones, where he’s happy and himself. No matter how much he longs to see Donghyuck, he doesn’t deserve them—he’s gone and gotten himself removed from the ‘loved ones’ category. Besides, looking at them might enable him to feel absolved of guilt—like just because Donghyuck seems content now, Renjun didn’t do anything wrong. But that’s not true. Donghyuck’s betrayed and hurt expression is tattooed on the back of his eyelids.

It would be a sin to for Renjun to forget how much he hurt Donghyuck.

Jeno blinks cluelessly. “I don’t know what you mean. Can’t I show my friend what my other friend is doing?”

Renjun says wryly, “I suppose after your beer, in Korean laws, you can’t be held accountable for any of your actions under the influence.”

He would know. He’s penned text after text, deliberated call after call, all the while inebriated. But somehow, even while drunk and teary, Renjun doesn’t dare actually contacting Donghyuck. He’d told Renjun not to, and it was the least—the absolute bare minimum—he could do to respect that.

Instead, Renjun stares at old pictures, watches past videos, and cries over the collection of ugly selfies he has stockpiled of Donghyuck. It’s masochistic, looking back to the time before he messed everything up. Because this is the Donghyuck that Renjun had the privilege of holding close—beneath the brilliant shell of Haechan, he opened the softest and rawest side of himself to Renjun. And he repaid Donghyuck with vicious attacks—betraying his trust after promising he wouldn’t hurt him.

The worst part is that Renjun has no one to blame but himself.

Renjun misses Donghyuck more than he knows what to do with himself. It’s been more than a month since Donghyuck left for tour, a month since Renjun last spoken with him. If not for the fact that Donghyuck is a world-renowned idol whose every move is captured by countless cameras, Renjun would have no idea what he was up to.

“It looks like he’s enjoying himself in Chicago,” Renjun comments quietly. “Their schedule is packed. I’m glad that they got to have some rest and homecooked food.”

“Nothing beats homemade kimchi jjigae,” Jeno says sagely. “A cure-all for any aches, pains and ailments.”

There’s a picture of Donghyuck posing with a photo of a long-haired, bowl cut middle school Johnny. Renjun can’t help but laugh. He _misses_ Donghyuck so much that it hurts like pressing a bruise when he thinks about it.

Jeno starts blathering about what Donghyuck is up to and despite his resolve, Renjun is _greedy_. He’ll take any news—a glutton for punishment, he absorbs every word that comes out of Jeno's mouth like it’s gospel. Jeno knows they fought; he found Renjun crying on the floor, tears dripping over the broken shards of porcelain, and patched his wounds up. Renjun didn’t even need to explain—apparently, they had fought so loud that Jeno, in the next room over, had overheard.

Renjun still feels the pinch of embarrassment that his dirty laundry is aired to the masses, but it’s eclipsed by the overwhelming guilt and sadness, which leaves him to care precious little about other things.

All this time has given him perspective. It becomes clear, even to Renjun, that he had overreacted from the start. All Donghyuck had said to his parents was that Renjun had taken care of him. That was all. He hadn’t mentioned that they had been kissing for months, that they cuddled when they slept together on the bed, or anything of the less _platonic_ natured things they did. It was just an offhand remark that Renjun had blown out of proportion—nothing suggested it was anything different than Donghyuck saying that Jaemin or Jaehyun took care of him while he was injured.

If he had been thinking clearly, he would have realised this. The fact that his first instinct was to become defensive and angry was a glaring sign that something was amiss.

Renjun is nineteen. In the eyes of the law, he is an adult—a man, not a boy. A real man owns up to his own mistakes. Burying his head in the sand, clapping his ears and screaming in the face of the truth—that is the behaviour of a child. There is a Chinese idiom that says when water submerges the rock, the bottom of the rock will be exposed. The more water is used to submerge the rock, the faster the rock will be flipped. It meant that no matter how hard one tries to conceal the truth, it will always come out.

Perhaps it is time for Renjun to admit to a truth that he had sensed, at the very back of his mind, but had never wanted to acknowledge.

After they finish their noodles, Renjun retrieves two more cans of beer and they move to the sofa. “Jeno,” he takes a fortifying sip of beer. “You were the first one Donghyuck came out to. What was that like?”

Jeno looks at him for a moment, as if appraising himself, before answering, “We were talking about our crushes. I asked him which girl he liked. I remember he went very quiet, and he said he didn’t like girls. He didn’t know how I would react. He was so worried, he started crying, and I couldn’t think of anything at that moment but comforting him.”

Renjun stares down at his hands, the shame choking him. He knew very well that Donghyuck’s sexuality was a sensitive point for him; he confessed that he was worried Renjun would view him differently in LA. And yet Renjun took his fear and used it to attack him—he was despicable.

“It’s easy to think Hyuckie is confident and unafraid, but he wasn’t always that, you know? It took him quite some time to become brave enough to come out to the rest of the members. Everyone has been supportive but every time he tells someone, he’s defensive, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Renjun takes another gulp of beer. “He told you all, even though it might affect his career, even though some people might not _support_ him?”

Jeno ponders for a moment, putting his beer down. “I’m not Donghyuck, I can’t say for certain why he did it. But I know it took him tremendous strength and trust to share this side of him to the members. I think he sincerely believed that they loved him, that they wouldn’t hold this against him.”

Renjun takes another deep gulp of beer, feeling the anxiety swirl in him—rising like a cyclone, gaining momentum—just talking about it, but he _knows_ he should have this conversation.

“And his parents?”

He feels Jeno looking at him, but Renjun resolutely stares at his Cass beer. If he has to look into Jeno’s gentle dark eyes, he might break down.

“Hyuck’s always been close to his parents. I don’t know what made him decide to tell them, but I think he felt that they would be supportive no matter what. And they were—I think it brought him closer to them as well.”

Something about that statement feels strange. He looks at Jeno quizzically, “You’ve met them before?”

“Yeah, Hyuckie invited me to stay over at his home in Jeju before.” Jeno replies readily, looking utterly at ease to any implications that could arise.

Something tight squeezes in Renjun’s chest—Donghyuck _loves_ (or _loved_?) Jeno and brought him home to his parents. But more objectively, his calm response contrasted to how Renjun blew a gasket, because Jeno only considered Donghyuck a _friend_. Jeno certainly wouldn’t have been so nonchalant if Yeeun introduced him to her family.

There’s a question burning at the tip of his tongue. One that he desperately wants to know but fears the answer to. He’s always been morbidly curious about it, because Donghyuck wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Did you know?” He blurts out, averting his eyes immediately.

Jeno tilts his head, blinking uncomprehendingly at him.

Renjun drains the last dregs of his beer, trying to evoke some courage. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, “Did you know that Donghyuck had a crush on you?”

Jeno falls silent. “I… I suspected,” he says, after a while. “It was only after I started dating Yeeun noona that I really started noticing, because Hyuckie had always been that way to me.”

He says this so plainly that he doesn’t even seem to register the significance of his words. Donghyuck had always behaved that way to him. Renjun’s heart _aches_ —how many years has Donghyuck been in love with Jeno, having him so close and yet never being able to bridge that distance?

“You knew and you still acted that way to him?” Renjun tries to control his voice, not wanting to be accusatory, but it’s hard not to when he remembers how Donghyuck had wept over Jeno, heartbroken.

“Like I said, I didn’t suspect until I started dating noona but then I had a choice,” Jeno says. “I could avoid him, or I could be the same, hoping that he would fall out of love with me.”

“Why the second option?”

Jeno looks discomfited. He bites his lip, uncertain, “Hyuckie is my best friend—I love him. I can never bear to hurt him. If I pulled away, he would wonder why. I didn’t want him to think I was averse to his skinship because he was gay. I didn’t want our friendship to break down which would harm the group. I… I was also selfish.”

Renjun frowns, scrutinising him more carefully. “What do you mean? You liked him being in love with you?”

“No, not that,” Jeno shakes his head. “I mean, I’m don’t mind that he loved me. It’s kind of flattering that he did. I’m so awkward and boring, whereas Hyuck is this superstar who lights up the room. I used to wish that I could return his feelings.”

Renjun scowls, squeezing his empty can with a crunch. Just imagining Jeno doing all the things that Renjun has done to Donghyuck makes something _burn_ in his chest. Handsome, muscley, smiley Jeno who only ever does Donghyuck right—Renjun is absolutely nothing compared to him.

Jeno clears his throat, fumbling for words, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I didn’t want to lose him. If I confronted him about it, it would be uncomfortable for the both of us and things wouldn’t be the same anymore. I love Hyuckie, even if it wasn’t how he loved me.”

Reluctantly, Renjun understands. He has first-hand experience how things aren’t the same after a confrontation.

“So, what now that you know he _likes_ you?” Renjun asks, unable to say the word _love_.

With a nervous glance at him, Jeno says quickly, “Two weeks ago, Hyuck told me that he was in love with me.”

Renjun _stares_ at him, an indescribable feeling of betrayal crashing over him. He _knows_ that Donghyuck is in love with Jeno, he’s always known. But that fight they had—Renjun thought… Donghyuck insinuated that he had feelings for him. It was all so complicated and messy that he couldn’t untangle what was what. But somehow, he hadn’t envisaged Donghyuck would confess to Jeno—not after so many years, not after what he had done with Renjun.

“What?” He asks, his voice cracking. “What’s this? You’re dating Yeeun noona. Why would he…”

“Renjun,” Jeno touches Renjun’s arm gently to recapture his attention. “Hyuckie said that he had loved me for years but he’d never had the courage to confess. He wanted to do it to get some closure.”

“Closure?” Renjun repeats dumbly, staring at Jeno.

“Yes,” the corner of Jeno’s mouth moves upwards imperceptibly. “He said that he wanted me to know once and for all, to close this chapter of his life so he could move on from this romantic limbo.”

“Oh,” Renjun says faintly. _Move on_ —did that mean…

“I’m glad he told me,” Jeno continues, smiling softly. “I’m happy that there aren’t any secrets between us anymore. And of course, it’s nice that he isn’t suffering in unrequited love,” with an impish smile, he says wryly, “not that Hyuckie believes me. He says that he’s in the same boat over again.”

There’s something pointed about that remark. Is that supposed to be directed at him? Donghyuck thinks that he’s gone from unrequited love with Jeno to… Renjun? He’d made a similar accusation in the midst of their fight but Renjun didn’t truly believe it. It’s too much for him to process.

Blushing, he protests, “Jeno…” he swallows, unable to form a full sentence.

“Just think about it, okay?” Jeno smiles warmly, his eyes crinkling. “I can’t possible know what you’re feeling, but I want you to know that all the members would never think any differently. You’re still the same short stuff who believes in aliens and conspiracy theories. Above all, I think your tendency to put people in chokeholds is more concerning.”

He slaps Jeno’s arm weakly, still too choked up to yell at him. Renjun reaches out—maybe to put him into one of those aforementioned chokeholds—but Jeno squeezes his hand, and then they’re hugging.

Renjun starts crying without warning, repressed tears that he didn’t know he held for so long, springing up like a hurt unquelled.

And Jeno _holds_ him, just like he held Donghyuck all those years ago, and Renjun unburdens all his fears.

Fate certainly has a sense of humour.

For as averse as Renjun was in going to Jeju to meet Donghyuck’s parents, his own parents ironically chose to vacation there. He could think of no legitimate reason to refuse them without disclosing the whole Donghyuck Debacle, so he agreed to go.

It’s a rare holiday for Renjun’s parents as well. As fortunate as he is in getting to travel across the world at the tender age of nineteen, the only overseas trip his parents had ever embarked on was to Seoul when he was a child. Being able to pay for this holiday for his parents feels like an achievement—it was _worth it_ , even if he isn’t yet a household name in China.

If Renjun had blindly followed his parents’ wishes, he would probably be at an average university (he was certainly not Peking University or Tsinghua material) sloughing away at a STEM degree he didn’t want and accumulating student debt. Instead, he had made the gamble of the lifetime, and now he was standing in the emerald water of Udo Sanho Beach whilst his parents sat on beach towels eating the famous Udo peanut ice-cream. Fortune certainly favoured the bold.

Udo Island was an island within Jeju; called Cow Island in Chinese because it resembled a cow lying down. Jeju was known as Korea’s Hawaii, the choice of honeymoon utopia for Korean couples, so much of the mainland was rather crowded. Conversely, less than 15 minutes by ferry from Jeju City, Udo Island was calmer and quieter.

Donghyuck had lived in Jeju as a child, and Renjun felt that he was very much the product of that environment. Renjun could vividly picture how this idyllic island would create a carefree childhood. Jeju wasn’t some backward hovel lacking modern trappings, but the sheer abundance of nature, the lack of in-your-face advertisements about plastic surgery and hagwons gave it a relaxed air. This was a place where a child could spend their formative years without being utterly oppressed by society.

Clear emerald water tickles his feet beneath the pristine white beach, his ears are filled with the ocean’s lulling symphony, and his eyes feast on endless miles of beautiful water—shallow emerald deepens into a stunning sapphire. Away from the invasive cameras, away from the scrutiny of managers and fans—Renjun could play to his heart’s content. Here, he is not a slide under microscopic observation. No one is here to judge him. Water is said to have healing properties—he feels cleansed and refreshed, like his spirit is being rejuvenated.

After a meal of spicy seafood stew—a heaping mountain of octopus, mussels, abalone, scallops, crabs and prawns, all freshly caught by the freediving Jeju grannies—he and his parents go on a sedate walk along the coast, climbing down the steps to Geommeolle Beach. While the black strip of sand—caused by eroded volcanic material—is interesting, it’s the view of the unusual rock formation at Udo’s Peak and caves which are the main attraction.

After that, they make the trek up Udo’s Peak, the highest point in the island. In the enjoyable May weather with a cool breeze and gentle warmth, Lalang fields to his left and right, and the sweet scent of flowers in bloom—Renjun understands why hiking is a Korean national pastime. Every time he turns around, beyond grassy fields and plains is the ocean, where the blue of the water seems to merge into the cloudless blue of the sky.

They finally reach the top, getting a good spot right by the white lighthouse. There they sit with their wrapped kimbap and hallabong mandarin juice, awaiting the sunset.

The sight is breath-taking. The orangey-red sun—bright as a Chinese salted egg yolk—lowers from the horizon, staining the sky in gradients of blue, red and orange, defiant even as it goes down. Below them, ships and boats dotted along the ocean, and even the water is coloured by the hue of the sun.

What a mesmerising view. This was a privilege Donghyuck had of seeing every day as he grew up, Renjun muses. Or was it? Did he love the beautiful nature, the wide-open horizon? Or did he look at this incredible view and feel trapped? Did he ever lament his family leaving Seoul? Feel far removed from his dreams of stardom. Donghyuck was the only Korean Dreamie who hadn't lived in the Seoul Capital Area. Opportunities didn’t fall into his lap—he wasn’t street casted or headhunted; Donghyuck as a thirteen-year-old boy had the wilful determination that he was going to be a star, so he left this island and _flew_ to Seoul to audition one Saturday in 2013. In a way, Renjun feels more connected to Donghyuck, because they had chased after their dreams when no one would give them anything.

Donghyuck is a star—no, he is the _sun_. Even static, Donghyuck’s actions have a rippling effect; Renjun’s life almost seems to revolve around him, like a planet around the sun.

Back in January, Renjun had attended 127’s first concert in Seoul with the rest of Dream. Although Donghyuck was injured and had to sit out the dance performances, he heightened his vocal delivery. No Longer live was an experience; his skin broke out in chills as Donghyuck’s voice echoed across the arena—it was indescribable, he truly had a voice that was meant to be heard. He glowed bright beneath the glare of the spotlight; watching the emotions play over his face as he was absorbed in song, no one could think he looked like anything but an angel as he crooned into the microphone while adoring fans cheered his name.

Renjun sat in the darkened pit of the audience, just one of the many adoring fans who cheered for Haechan, shrouded in shadows. He was always watching, always waiting, always wanting, and yet once again, always passive. He remembered the feeling of déjà vu; it took him weeks before he made the connection—the first time he ever dreamed of Donghyuck was the night he took the plunge to audition for SM Entertainment.

As the sun sets, the shadows on dol hareubang begin to stretch, giving them a menacing appearance. The stone statues with bulging eyes on grim faces were littered across the entire Jeju Island, said to be gods that offered protection to men against demons travelling between realms.

As a child, when the power went out, Renjun’s grandmother would sit him beside candlelight and entertain him with stories while he ate steamed mantou with condensed milk. There was a legend of the fisherman’s faithful wife who climbed the hills every day with her son on her back, come rain or shine, standing at the top of the cliff to watch for the return of her husband, not knowing that he had drowned at sea. The Gods were so touched by her devotion that they rewarded her faithfulness by turning her likeness into rock such that she could always wait at the cliff, so her spirit could reunite with that of her husband.

There’s some irony in that, Renjun thinks ruefully. Was Dream not faithfully waiting for Donghyuck’s return before they made a comeback? More than eight months had passed since their last promotions and this would be the 00 line’s last year all together before their graduation. But more than anything, _Renjun_ is waiting for Donghyuck. Even if he’s hardly the faithful, dedicated wife… Renjun swallows down the lump in his throat—all guilt and regret. He's used to it by now.

Maybe it’s sitting in Donghyuck’s hometown that propels him to introspection. Renjun thought of this often; alone in his room he was forced to re-enact their horrible fight in a never ending cycle, their ghosts screaming at each other like actors practicing lines, but out here he felt more removed from it and could think more abstractly. He would admit that for a long-time, he disliked Donghyuck. Donghyuck is a person who inspires great feeling: whether positive or negative, everyone has an opinion, it is impossible to be ambivalent. But even in those naysayers and critics—even when Renjun thought he hated him—there is a grudging sense of respect. He can be loud and rude, the concept of personal boundaries doesn’t exist in his dictionary, but no one denies that he has talent in abundance.

Renjun knows he has a habit of analysing Donghyuck, but he used to chalk it up to envy. It is, after all, extremely difficult not to be jealous of Donghyuck, who has a unique husky voice, the seemingly endless admiration of their seniors, and is in 2 group units despite being the same age. Considering their similarities brought out Renjun’s insecurities—thoughts that he could be in Donghyuck’s position if he wasn’t so lacking.

Jealousy is easy to categorise—the tight, uncomfortable _ugly_ feeling that he gets when Donghyuck effortlessly leads the group’s dynamics, when he’s given the best lines in Dream, the way he never feels the need to censor himself. Donghyuck never needs to pretend to be anyone else; his bright, witty, and audacious personality is sufficient. Renjun was slapped with the label of an innocent pure boy and has had to navigate how much to live up to it, and how much to be himself.

So it made sense that Renjun thought he wanted to be Donghyuck for so long and it was fine. Okay, it’s never very pleasant to grapple with jealousy over his band member, but it was common—he certainly wasn’t alone.

What he _can’t_ accept is how that obsession with Donghyuck slowly materialised into an all-consuming desire to be with him. That is a possibility which he _never_ let himself entertain, not until Donghyuck spoke it out loud and forced Renjun to acknowledge a truth that he hadn’t known about himself.

Perhaps that isn’t quite right—it’s not that he hadn’t known, only that he refused to admit it.

Considering it now, all of the signs were there: his disinterest towards pursuing romantic relationships with girls, his discomfort when they would confess, his _admiration_ of tall and athletic men. Then, most obviously, was his actions with Donghyuck.

Once forced to start looking, a list of irrefutable evidence points him towards an incontestable conclusion.

Why would he kiss Donghyuck for eight months straight if there was no attraction?

Why was he so jealous of Jeno, so upset that Donghyuck spoiled him with attention? If they were just friends, Renjun wouldn’t be so bitter about Donghyuck having a crush on someone else.

All those fantasies that he had, and the pleasure he chased with one very specific person in mind.

It wasn’t just physical, lust and desperation overriding his preferences. No, what was more persuasive were all the moments that had nothing to do with that. His despair over Donghyuck’s injuries, his constant need to take care of him, the way Renjun tried his best to comfort him in his moment of pain…

Renjun thought he was just being empathetic, just being the _best friend_ that he thought he was, but Jaemin and Jeno never did the things he did just to help Donghyuck.

All his thoughts and feelings, rationalised in any way that he could—he was being a good friend, he was a bleeding heart, he even considered he might have a heart problem—when there was a reason that he didn’t want to acknowledge already there.

So much of his thought process, feelings and actions—completely illogical and riddled with fallacies—could all easily be explained by one simple fact.

 _Renjun is gay_.

There, he said it—the truth that he never wanted to admit to, a fact he buried so deep in his subconscious that he almost forgot—but something that lives, breathes and is cognisant in his mind now.

Renjun didn’t want to admit it for so long because he _knew_ it was going to be difficult. He remembers the instinctive _fear_ he felt when Donghyuck was accidentally outed by Jaemin. The anxiety he had that managers or staff members would overhear, and that wasn’t even himself.

Though it feels infuriatingly obvious now, perhaps he subconsciously twisted the truth in each and every way in an attempt to protect himself. His government teaches him that homosexuality is a _disease_ , his culture conditions him to believe that the biggest honour in life is to extend the family line and start a family… not exactly the ideal environment for self-acceptance.

Even now, knowing the truth, knowing that mind readers don’t exist, he looks around furtively to see if anyone looks at him weirdly, like his sexual orientation is a glaring siren on top of his head.

It is both a relief and a burden to confess the truth to himself. To know why he has behaved in the way he did is relieving, but now, he has something to hide. A secret that might destroy all that he holds near.

Because being gay is one thing, being _in love_ with Donghyuck is a whole other matter.

He feels he can come round to the fact that he is gay. As an idol, he has no shortage in hiding parts of himself that society deems unfavourable. It would just be another facet that he conceals. Being gay could even be an asset in idol industry: his disinterest in women wouldn’t lead to dating scandals, any dubious skinship with other men was rationalised under fanservice.

In short, being gay would have essentially was no hindrance to his career if he didn’t have the urge to act on it. But of course, he’d gone and done the most dangerous and risky thing he could do—fall in love.

Even worse than that—fall in love with his band member. The perils of dating a fellow bandmate are well-documented in the history of popular music, as exemplified by ABBA and Fleetwood Mac. A breakup severely affected the group’s dynamic and made performing together very difficult if there were bad feelings. But combine this with homosexuality—well, simply put, if they were discovered, the entire group’s career would be destroyed.

Just thinking about being _outed_ to the public sends Renjun’s anxiety skyrocketing. He has worked too hard for him to fall on his own sword. How can he in good conscience _endanger_ NCT because of his feelings?

If it were up to him, Renjun would lock his feelings in a safe and compartmentalise it deep down in his mind, praying that it would wither away without nourishment and die a cold lonely death.

But this is Donghyuck, who is radiant and affectionate, who plays with him, sings with him, comforts him. Donghyuck calls him his _soulmate_ —not Mark, his best friend; not Jeno, his crush. Donghyuck tells the world ‘Renjun is my soulmate’.

How is Renjun to withstand this level of assault? How does he fight against a foe he doesn’t want to attack?

Donghyuck has always had this terrible habit of weaselling his way into his opponent’s heart. Renjun wouldn’t be the first one to be ensnared. Donghyuck scammed Mark, a boy who thought to quit the company because he loathed him so much, into being his best friend. Renjun, who had actually joined the company to spite him, reversed his mind and fell in love.

Donghyuck is the sun. Donghyuck is a force of nature. Donghyuck is utterly undeniable.

And Renjun cannot, will not, and _does not_ want to deny him.

God, Renjun is _in love_ with Donghyuck.

Is this what it feels like to stand on the precipice of a cliff, peering over the very edge, not knowing if you will be caught?

Is this what it feels like to knowingly walk into a trap, surrendering yourself to the tender mercies of fate?

Is it free will or is this predestined? Because sometimes, Renjun thinks Donghyuck and him are meant to be, that they were brought together by the universe.

If this is the will of God, who is he—a mere mortal, a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things—to fight?

“You look at peace,” his mother says to him, touching him on the arm and drawing him out of his reverie. “You were so entranced; is it that beautiful?”

“Yes,” Renjun smiles, thinking of Donghyuck. “It is.”

He has his answer.

**2019 June**

Unsurprisingly, the wait is unbearable.

Renjun is not a particularly patient person. Once he’s made up his mind, he wants to do it immediately. Waiting is agonising because it provides him with ample time to change his mind. Alone with his thoughts, his insecurities expand like a sponge soaking up water, feeding his fears that he will regret his choice.

Perhaps he crossed a line in the fight; maybe Donghyuck actually hates him. They’ve not spoken to each other directly since March. For people who used to talk every single day, either through dumb memes on the group chat or their private chat, this radio silence is deafeningly conspicuous. Sometimes, Renjun will send a funny picture on the group chat, a joke that would tickle Donghyuck’s fancy, just to receive 6 read receipts. It’s honestly discouraging, so he needles Jisung into giving him some response just so he feels less like a loser.

Since Donghyuck is not talking to him, Renjun respects his wishes and gives him space. Still, he side-eyes the others when they ignore his texts only to extol over Mark’s awful selfies and Donghyuck’s food adventure pictures. He tries not to be jealous when Donghyuck responds to the other Dreamies but not him—after all, Renjun hasn’t even plucked up the courage to text him. Privately, he would be gutted if he texted Donghyuck only to be met with the cold shoulder; if Renjun doesn’t text him, then Donghyuck can’t ignore him.

However, on Donghyuck’s birthday, the company tells them that Dream is going to comeback at the end of July. Renjun is so enthused by the news that he feels emboldened, grabbing his phone to text Donghyuck.

**Huang Renjun 12:31**

_Happy birthday, Donghyuck-ah_

_I know you told me not to contact you, but it’s your birthday and I wanted to wish you well_

_We’re having a comeback_

_It’s been too long without you_

Hesitatingly, his thumbs hover over the screen, wondering to add this but he decides to bite the bullet.

_I miss you._

Immediately after he presses send, he throws his phone away like a hot poker, screaming into his pillow like the heroine of a drama. Whatever happens next is all in Donghyuck’s court. His resolve to ignore his phone doesn’t even last five minutes when he gets a Kakaotalk notification and he jumps across his bed in his haste to check.

Disappointment floods him when it’s only a message from Jaemin, inviting him to come out to the kitchen to eat lunch. Renjun pushes down his dismay—he might as well eat his sadness away.

While eating, Jaemin brings out his laptop to show him the drama he’s currently watching. One episode turns into the whole season, then it’s late and Renjun’s eyes are burning (not from tears for once).

Tired, Renjun bids Jaemin good night, returning to his room and collapsing onto bed. He absently checks his phone, only to drop it onto his face when he sees his notifications. Through the pain on his forehead, Renjun wonders if he’s hallucinating when he sees a once familiar sight on his lockscreen.

**Lee Haechan, NCT 13:07**

_Thank you_

_I know…_

_It’s good to be home._

Renjun stares at the texts—Donghyuck sent them just half an hour after he first messaged. He smacks his forehead, wincing when he hits his bruise. _No, no, no!_ Renjun is the biggest idiot on the planet. He’s been killing himself waiting all this time just to mess it up by leaving his phone in his room. Now, Donghyuck will think he’s messing with him, playing push and pull or… Renjun doesn’t even want to imagine how low he thinks of him.

**Huang Renjun 23:07**

_Donghyuck, I’m so, so sorry for the late response_

_I wanted to distract myself so I watched a drama with Jaemin and left my phone in my room_

_I would have replied right away._

_Are you back in the dorm now?_

_I’m happy that you’re home too_

He sounds desperate and pathetic, but that’s because Renjun _is_ desperate and pathetic. He knows he should prepare for bed because it’s unlikely Donghyuck will reply to him again, but there’s too much pent-up nervous energy in him. Less than 2 minutes after he sent the text, he goes to check his chat again to see that the message has been read. Has Donghyuck been waiting for him to reply too?

He quickly exits the personal chat but leaves the Kakaotalk app on, not wanting to seem too eager so that when Donghyuck replies, he knows that he’s been waiting for a response.

It’s agony waiting for Donghyuck. He both loves and loathes that Kakaotalk doesn’t have iMessage’s typing function. On one hand, it would be nice to know if Donghyuck is currently typing or if he has just been left on read. On the other hand, it would be maddening watching the ellipsis only for it to disappear without any texts.

Finally, a solid four minutes after the message is marked read, he gets a reply. From his notification previews, he sees

**Lee Haechan, NCT 23:11**

_Yes, I’m in my room._

He stares at the screen, hoping that another message will pop up, but another minute passes without any change. Okay—he can say conclusively that Donghyuck is still mad. Renjun winces, he deserves that.

It’s desperation that makes him type.

**Huang Renjun 23:13**

_Donghyuck, can we talk?_

_Face to face_

_Please_

The 1 floating next to the speech bar disappears immediately which rallies his confidence a little; Donghyuck, at this exact time and moment, is invested in their private chat.

**Lee Haechan, NCT 23:13**

_Renjun, it’s late…_

Renjun knows he shouldn’t press, but—Donghyuck replied. If he truly didn’t want to speak to Renjun, he wouldn’t have responded. He would have ignored him. Give an inch, and Renjun will take a mile.

**Huang Renjun 23:13**

_Please._

Renjun begins to feel worried when a minute passes without a response, but then comes a reply.

**Lee Haechan, NCT 23:15**

_Meet me at the 127 dorm_

Immediately, Renjun scrambles out of bed, running out of the dorm in the first pair of shoes he sees. He grimaces at his reflection in the mirrored lift, that he can’t meet Donghyuck looking as good as he can get.

**Huang Renjun 23:17**

_I’m downstairs_

When he reaches the 127 dorm, Donghyuck is standing outside the door, tapping on his phone. He lifts his head as Renjun approaches, and he gets his first proper look at Donghyuck in person after three months.

Donghyuck looks haggard. Beneath the strong hallway light, he is hollowed-cheeked and ashen, like a worn-out shirt washed too many times. The baggy shape of his T-shirt and basketball shorts accentuate the jut of his bones, his weight loss evident. This is the toll of a multi-continental tour whilst preparing for a comeback.

Renjun’s heart _hurts_ looking at him.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asks, his eyes tracing the purplish bruising beneath Donghyuck’s eyes, his gaunt pallor, the droop of his back like just carrying himself upright is beyond his strength.

Donghyuck wordlessly steps back, letting him into the house. Renjun toes off his shoes while Donghyuck closes the door, submerging them in darkness.

“The hyungs are asleep,” he whispers, explaining the lack of light. “We can talk on the balcony.”

Renjun sweeps his eyes across the expanse of the foyer and living room, seeing the bulky shapes of suitcases and boxes strewn left and right, like the contents of a packing container exploded outwards.

“You guys are moving soon, right? Is that why there's so many boxes?”

Donghyuck makes a sound of acknowledgement. “No point in unpacking when we're going to fly back out for tour in two weeks.”

The dorm is located in an affluent residential area of Gangnam, so there is little noise and light beyond the streetlights faintly seen from the window. In the darkness, the path to the balcony feels as treacherous as an adventurer climbing a rope bridge amidst a rainstorm.

Inevitably, he slips on something—he throws his arm out to prevent himself from falling face first into a box—but a strong hand catches him by the arm.

Donghyuck hauls him up, voice more tired than concerned, “Careful. Everything’s kind of all over the place.”

Renjun would usually try to quip or crack a joke—anything to break the tension—but all his Donghyuck-deprived brain can register right now are the hands still loosely wrapped around his forearm. Donghyuck follows his gaze, releasing his hold almost instantly, but Renjun is quick to capture him once more. He refuses to let go—not when it’s been so many months, not when Donghyuck seems ready to relinquish him. Renjun slides his hand into Donghyuck’s, linking their fingers together.

Whether it’s because Donghyuck actually wants it or he’s too tired to protest, he lets it happen because without another word, he turns to the balcony door and slides it open. He’s surprisingly considerate of Renjun being joined to him, taking smaller steps to accommodate him.

Renjun steps into the warm balmy night. The air is thick with humidity from the impending monsoon season, and it fills the air with a heavy, electric atmosphere.

Or maybe he’s projecting.

He looks at Donghyuck, who is staring sightlessly out into the night, and he wonders if this is what it means to be so close yet so far away. But he has to try, he has to bridge this distance that he unwittingly created.

Licking his dry lips, he attempts, “Happy birthday, Donghyuck.”

Because his hand is in his, Renjun feels Donghyuck tense. “You said that already but thank you.”

Okay, so Donghyuck hasn’t thawed out.

Clearing his throat, he tries again. “I wanted to start this out on a good note—”

“Let’s cut to the chase, okay?” Donghyuck exhales noisily, turning to look at him impatiently. “I’ve flown twelve hours today just to go from the airport directly into the company for practice. I have Superhuman promotions to do. I don’t have time for small talk.”

Renjun slumps—he certainly he deserves that. He wishes he prepared a speech or something, but he knows that even if he did, one look at Donghyuck would have turned his brain to mush.

“I’m sorry,” He says, looking at Donghyuck, who stares back at him defiantly. “You don’t know how sorry I am. From the moment I said it, I’ve been sorry, even if… I didn’t realise how much at the time. But now I know that you were right, and I was wrong.”

“Glad to know you aren’t a completely heartless bastard,” Donghyuck says coolly, staring out into the night.

Ouch.

“I wasn’t—” _I wasn’t in my right mind_ , Renjun thinks, but he knows it’s just an excuse. It’s one thing to be defensive about something you’re trying to repress, it’s another to say the viciously cruel things he said. He knows he’s not entitled to forgiveness, but… Renjun _loves_ him, and even if it results in Donghyuck ordering him to leave, this is the right thing to do. Renjun owes him the truth, no matter what outcome it garners.

“You’re right,” Renjun croaks, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Everything you said about me… you were right all along, and I never wanted to admit it.”

Donghyuck finally turns to him, raising a sardonic eyebrow, not making it any easier for Renjun.

Renjun closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath in his rattling chest. It’s just him and Donghyuck in the silence of the night, so quiet it could be a dream. Beneath this blanket of darkness, without sound or sight, it’s like no one exists, and this gives Renjun the push to speak.

“I was afraid of acknowledging the truth,” he whispers. He feels lightheaded with fear, his breaths feel shallow like his lungs are shrinking, and even just saying the words makes him think he might faint. “I’m gay.”

There’s no response to his declaration and when he opens his eyes, he finds Donghyuck looking at him steadily.

“Thank you for telling me,” Donghyuck says evenly. “I know it’s difficult.”

That’s putting it lightly, Renjun thinks, hysterically recalling all the breakdowns and sleepless nights he had. Just thinking about how he had thrown that in Donghyuck’s face—the one person who paradoxically understands it most—makes the guilt bubble over, until he’s blubbering.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Renjun gasps, the tears suddenly prickling into his eyes. “I said horrible, terrible things to you. I’m sorry I said it and I wish I could take them back, because none of them are true. It must have been even more difficult for you, to experience all of that alone when you were so young. I’m so sorry that I invalidated you and tried to tear you down. I’m sorry for everything I said because I know how hard it’s been for you. I’m sorry I hurt you when I said I would protect you… I’m just so sorry for everything.”

“You said I was _unlovable_ ,” Donghyuck’s coldness shatters to show his hurt, the wounds Renjun inflicted so cruelly, like even three months after they remain as fresh as the day they were said. “I know I go around hugging people, but hearing you say that people bear with it, that _you_ humoured me like I was a joke… that hurt me a lot. Do you know how painful it is to be openly gay and then have you throw that in my face?”

“I’m so _sorry_ , I really am. You’re not unlovable, I never believed that, even as I was saying it. It’s completely untrue,” Renjun insists, tears spilling over his cheeks as he sees the devastation he’s caused. “Donghyuck… I didn’t mean that at all. People _love_ you so much… the things we did, it was never something I put up with, I didn’t humour you at all.”

The hurt in Donghyuck’s voice is unmistakeable. “I _trusted_ you, Renjun. You told me I could be myself with you, and then you called me a _poor substitute for a girl_. After I opened up to you, for you to say that so scornfully… it felt so demeaning. You reduced me to a mouth, like _I_ didn’t matter at all.”

“You were never a substitute,” Renjun insists, wiping his tears, needing Donghyuck to believe that. “I know it’s no excuse, but what you said made me panic. I was nowhere near coming to terms with the fact that I was gay, and I was so scared of it,” He wipes his eyes, sniffling. “You were never a replacement because there was nothing to replace. When we were together, I _only_ ever thought of you, and how happy you made me. There’s never been anyone but you.” Renjun pulls his hand away, so ashamed that he can’t look at Donghyuck.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck says quietly, and Renjun swallows down his hiccups to hear him. “I know you’re sorry, but you really hurt me. I thought about this for months, and you never contacted me.”

“It took me a while to accept it, and then I thought you didn’t want to hear from me,” Renjun says, his voice breaking from sobs. He stares at the ground, his voice shaking, “I understand if you don’t forgive me.”

Donghyuck sighs, running a hand through his air as he looks at the night sky, at the full moon.

“You don’t need to forgive me,” Renjun has to take a moment to pause, his breathing so uneven he felt he was about to hyperventilate and pass out from crying, “but I… I’m begging you to believe that I would never hurt you like that if I wasn’t so defensive. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true and I just felt so attacked. I misspoke and I regret that every day. I _will_ be better.”

Renjun dissolves into puddles of tears, and he has to cover his face, he’s sobbing so hard.

There’s a hand touching his. Through the tears in his eyes, he sees Donghyuck gazing at him carefully. “I don’t like seeing you cry. You're going to make _me_ cry, I can't stand it,” he says softly, “you’re a really ugly crier.”

This startles a laugh through his tears, until Renjun's both laughing and crying uncontrollably. Donghyuck reaches for him, and he falls into his arms. Donghyuck holds him tight, his arms wrapping around Renjun’s shoulders and waist, and he clutches back desperately, his legs weak.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Renjun gasps, the words spilling out of him, like a million apologies could assuage his guilt, could undo all the damage he’s done. “I’m never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Hush,” Donghyuck runs his fingers through Renjun’s hair, patting him lightly. “Breathe, just breathe, okay?”

Renjun clings onto him, his nose to Donghyuck’s neck, breathing in his comforting scent—clean and musky, like a shelter from the storm, like _home_.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, Donghyuck just gently brushing his air, waiting until Renjun stops sobbing, his breathing evening out.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun apologises quietly once more, speaking into Donghyuck’s neck. His scent calms him, grounds him that Donghyuck is _here_.

“Don’t ever treat me like that again, okay?”

“I won’t,” Renjun promises, holding Donghyuck tighter. “I was afraid.”

“Look at me?” Donghyuck asks gently, and Renjun glances up, and the look on his face is so _soft_ that he could almost start crying again. “I know it’s very scary, but you’re not alone. You can ask me any questions. I know it seems very daunting, but I’m here for you. We can go through this together.”

“Together,” Renjun repeats, once with incredulity, and another time with wonder. “ _Together_.”

These words are starting to tread into dangerous territory. These are the things that Renjun has wished for but never quite dared to think about, but Donghyuck is the one _talking_ about them, and he can’t help but start to have expectations. Something like hope begins to blossom in his chest, spreading through his body.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Renjun asks, peering up at Donghyuck.

Donghyuck grumbles but he can’t look away, his eyes intently on Renjun’s face, “You’re not playing fair.”

Renjun can’t help but laugh. He’s red-eyed and snot-faced, there’s nothing particularly attractive about him now. But if Donghyuck is joking, he’ll play along, “What’s that saying? All’s fair in love and war.”

“And what’s that we have here?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, almost challenging Renjun to say it.

“I don’t want to fight with you, not like _this_ ,” Renjun exhales, rubbing his eyes. He feels wrung out, all the emotions washed out of him. “It’s weird not to hear your voice constantly.”

Donghyuck scoffs, a wry smile curling on his lips, “You can’t even say you miss me? I have you on text.”

Renjun pouts, “Then why did you need me to tell you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” Donghyuck confesses. “Sometimes I get ahead of myself. I assumed you’d come around on your own before and look what happened,” he smiles deprecatingly. “Assuming just makes an ass out of you and me.”

Renjun can’t help but laugh at Donghyuck’s crudity—he’s truly missed this silly, wonderful boy so much. He smiles, helplessly endeared, “Donghyuck-ah, neither you nor I have any ass to speak of.”

Donghyuck pouts, his lower lip protruding; Renjun stares at the fullness of his lip, entranced by how pretty and pink they look. “We were having a moment and you ruined it!”

Renjun blinks, “I think you ruined it when you started talking about asses.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Donghyuck moans dramatically. “It’s my birthday and I’m being bullied.”

Renjun glances at his watch to ascertain the veracity of his words. It’s 23:58—there are two minutes until Donghyuck’s birthday is officially over.

“Alright, alright, you big baby,” Renjun says, happy to latch onto the any opportunity to lighten the mood. He squeezes Donghyuck’s face to make him stop with the aegyo faces. Donghyuck stops but his smile is uncontainable, brilliant even in the dimness. Renjun’s heart skips a beat.

Is this what it means to fall in love? To find beauty even in mundanity? To be attracted to someone who looks tattered and tired, to find him stunning even when he’s not trying?

“Happy birthday, Donghyuck-ah.”

Renjun whispers, a breath away from him, and then he leans forward, watching Donghyuck’s eyes flutter close. He presses his lips against his, kissing him sweetly and softly, close-mouthed and chaste.

Donghyuck presses his forehead against his, humming, his voice low, “Is this my birthday gift? A kiss?”

Renjun doesn’t open his eyes. If this is a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up. He’s dreamt of Donghyuck so many times over the past months—some sweet, some sad, some with embarrassing consequences—but even his happiest dreams don’t compare to the reality of holding Donghyuck, feeling muscle beneath hand, the scent of his skin, and the taste of his lips. How could Renjun ever think Donghyuck was a substitute when a mere kiss robs him of his reasoning, sets his heart alight and makes him euphorically connected to him?

It’s utter madness—it’s _love_.

He opens his eyes. Donghyuck is still here, his round eyes sparkling beneath the pale moonlight, his lips slightly parted, his expression open. Donghyuck’s here with his guard down and his heart on his sleeve. Despite Renjun’s mistakes, Donghyuck is offering him a second chance.

He glances at his watch again—it’s midnight. “That was a birthday kiss, and this is just a kiss.”

Renjun brings their lips back together, pouring in all his feelings into his kiss, carding one hand into the ends of Donghyuck’s hair, the other caressing his cheek, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone tenderly. When Donghyuck parts his lips, Renjun licks into his mouth, and he swallows every gasp, every moan—Renjun takes all that Donghyuck has to offer because he can’t seem to have enough.

“You’ve gotten better at kissing,” Donghyuck pants, vaguely accusatory. “Must have had a lot of practice.”

Renjun smiles slightly, “I had a good teacher who incentivised me to learn.”

Donghyuck laughs quietly, ducking his head down, his cheeks faintly red. He’s too cute, Renjun fears the day his heart won’t be able to withstand it, but he has long since resigned himself to the fact that he has surrendered his beating heart to the slim, elegant fingered hands of Donghyuck.

This isn’t a romantic location. In the balcony of the 127 dorm surrounded by drying racks and even a can of tuna on the ground for the stray cat, the heat and humidity making his shirt stick to his back, it’s a far cry from the picture perfect romance that Renjun watches in movies. And yet, his heart beats like he’s the protagonist sneaking away with his love interest in the palace garden at the opulent ball, the faint sound of strings still discernible, dancing beneath the moonlight in their finery.

Renjun doesn’t need art or movies or conventional beauty, all he needs is Donghyuck.

Perhaps Renjun’s feelings are reflected in his face, because Donghyuck’s breath hitches, his eyes widening before a small, tender smile blossoms across his face, and it’s dazzling in its delicacy.

Renjun takes Donghyuck’s hand to place his palm over his heart. “Do you know how I feel now? Do you know my heart?”

Without looking away from him, Donghyuck takes Renjun’s hand to splay over his own heart. Renjun feels it thudding away, beating like a hummingbird beneath his hand. “I know you still have mine.”

**2019 August**

La vie en rose.

The phrase is most apt for life seems to be in full bloom in August. It might even be his favourite month of the year, since that was when Dream debuted and ever since then, every year they’ve always had comeback promotions in the same month.

More than that, there’s something about summer which just makes him so happy. Maybe it’s the warm weather, the longer days of sunlight, the joy of eating sweet summer delights like watermelon and ice-cream, the feeling of freedom leftover from school summer vacation, or even the weightless feeling of wearing less clothes.

Renjun had a lot of fun in July. Although Donghyuck was busy as ever going on tour with 127 and most of the time they spent together was for Dream’s comeback preparation, he brought energy and life wherever he went. Even just practicing together—plus a few cheeky kisses snuck in the bathroom—was enjoyable.

Renjun does recall fondly the first ever date though. An official one, not just repressed, secret kissing. On the rare night they had off, the two of them went to the Han River and had a picnic on the grass in a relatively private spot. They ate fried chicken and just chatted for hours, and it was like they were a normal couple. Renjun didn’t want the night to end. When Donghyuck walked him back to the Dream dorm, Renjun invited him up to have ramen, and he stayed the night.

July ends and August comes to cement itself as his favourite because everything just seems to go _right_. There’s something in the air which makes him feel happy and revitalised, even if his sleep schedule plummets because of their activities.

The week after Dream comes back with BOOM, they go to Tokyo for three days of SMTown concerts. Renjun privately finds it funny that he ends up rooming with Jaehyun since he is the fuse that lit the powder keg which led to Donghyuck and him getting together. Perhaps his amusement stems from Donghyuck’s narrow-eyed jealousy when he hears about the rooming arrangement. After all, he hadn’t said anything when Donghyuck had roomed with Jeno in West Virginia for the World Scout Jamboree. Though to be fair, Donghyuck had been so drained from tour and Boom preparations that Jeno had reported he spent his downtime in the hotel sleeping.

Despite Renjun’s humour, he finds it slightly daunting a prospect to room with Jaehyun. He arrives in Tokyo a day after 127 does since Dream had a music show appearance to find Jaehyun already settled in the room with his belongings unpacked. Jaehyun seems like an adult who has his life put together (he has a shaving kit in the bathroom!) while Renjun wears Moomin boxers and is incapable of growing facial hair.

Jaehyun smiles at him, dimples popping in his cheeks, “Did you eat dinner at the venue? I’m about to order room service. Do you want something?”

Renjun did eat but he feels rude turning down his offer, so he chimes, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

He busies himself with unpacking his things, feeling uncomfortable doing nothing. Afterwards, Jaehyun asks if he would like to shower first, and Renjun politely offers to let him go first.

He deliberately avoids looking at Jaehyun when he comes out of the shower, grabbing his things and escaping into the bathroom. Knowing that he’d had a crush on Jaehyun makes it difficult to behave normally. Luckily, when Renjun comes out, he’s spared from more discomfort as their food is delivered. While Renjun arranges the bowls of unagi don, fried tempura and drinks, Jaehyun connects his phone to the Bluetooth speakers.

They start eating and it’s quiet but for the slow moody jazz that plays through the speakers. Renjun is halfway through his grilled eel rice bowl when Jaehyun puts down his chopsticks.

“So, Renjun,” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I’m happy that we’re rooming together. We haven’t really gotten the chance to get to know each other.”

It was a diplomatic way of saying they were the least close among all the members. For some reason, Renjun has a bad feeling about this. “Yes, I’m happy that we got to be roommates too.”

“Speaking of roommates, as you already know, I share one with Donghyuck,” Renjun puts down his chopsticks, his stomach sinking with every word that leaves Jaehyun’s mouth. “We’ve lived together for almost two years—he’s my dongsaeng who I care about very much. He’s gone through a lot this year.”

He gets the impression that Jaehyun isn’t just talking about Donghyuck’s injury. A chill creeps down his spine as he realises this is heading into dangerous territory. “It was awful he got injured.”

“I hear that you took care of Donghyuck while we were on tour in Japan,” Jaehyun smiles, whiskers bunching up in his cheeks. “The hyungs in 127 thank you for your kindness.”

 _Oh God_. Renjun freezes, his heart stopping in fear. The word choice has to be deliberate—is this some kind of intervention? Does he know about their fight? Is Renjun going to get beat up by 127?

Jaehyun continues, his smile never faltering, “You two seem very close. Donghyuck always talks about you, do you know? I found it a bit odd that he never mentioned you when we were on tour though.”

 _He does_. Renjun’s heart pounds like he’s a trainee again surprised with an unexpected evaluation. “I,” He croaks, trying to find his voice. “We, um, had a bit of an argument. But we made up! It was my fault 100% but I- I apologised!”

“So we’ve heard,” Jaehyun smiles—has there ever been a more terrifying set of dimples? Renjun feels lightheaded with fear at his words. After a pause, he says, “He certainly seems much happier nowadays.”

Something unfurls from his chest like the cracking of ice, but a larger part of him remains on tenterhooks on what is upcoming. Renjun says carefully. “I hope I make him as happy as he makes me.”

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear that,” Renjun thinks he’s safe when Jaehyun continues, “I wasn’t his roommate on the tour, but anyone who had eyes could see that he was upset.”

There’s a rebuke in his words despite his mild tone and Renjun looks down at his unfinished rice, his stomach turning from guilt and shame.

“I like seeing Donghyuck happy—we all do. He’s _our_ maknae and we look after him,” Jaehyun’s voice never dips into a threat—mild and pleasant—and yet Renjun feels pinned to his seat. “He’s happy now. I’d like for it to stay that way. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Renjun nods frantically like a bobblehead doll. “When Donghyuck is happy, I’m happy.”

“Oh, you’re not wrong,” Jaehyun laughs, his voice low, and Renjun hides a wince—he has a feeling that he’s being laughed at. Jaehyun pauses to consider him and Renjun feels like a body part about to be dissected.

“I’ve lived with Donghyuck long enough to understand him quite well. I’ve seen him at his highest and lowest,” Jaehyun pins him with a look. “He is headstrong and lacks self-preservation. He loves and forgives easily, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and he wants everyone to think that he doesn’t get hurt. But that’s not true.”

In the silence of the room, the singer crooning softly in English through Jaehyun’s speakers seem especially loud. _Don’t you tell me it wasn’t meant to be, call it quits, call it destiny, just because it won’t come easily, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try._ Absently, Renjun thinks that it’s a good song, and he might have asked Jaehyun for the title if he wasn’t positively petrified of him.

Jaehyun seems to be waiting for a response, and Renjun doesn’t know what to say—how to answer without completely exposing himself. Naively, he hopes that Jaehyun—and by extension, 127—don’t know the details of their situation and they genuinely think it was merely a spat among members. But he knows that he’ll never be so lucky, that Donghyuck is open with his affections and he’ll never be happy being a dirty little secret.

“I know I made mistakes,” Renjun admits, squirming in discomfort. “But I’m making it up to him. I know I was wrong. I’m thankful that he gave me another chance. Donghyuck is… he’s one of the most important people to me. I don’t want to hurt him again.”

Jaehyun catches his eye and Renjun doesn’t look away. Any other time, he’d blush and avert his eyes, but not when it’s this. Not when he feels like he has to prove that he _deserves_ Donghyuck.

Surprisingly, it’s Jaehyun who breaks eye contact first, his lip quirking up in amusement. “Then I wish you guys all the best,” he says, standing up. “I hope that your _relationship_ remains as close as it is now.”

With shaky legs, Renjun stands up too, not nearly daring to believe that this hellish ordeal is over. “Thank you, hyung,” he bites his lip. “I’m glad that he has people like you looking out for him.”

Jaehyun dimples, the look of a benign, benevolent hyung once again. “Well then, I’m very glad that we had this chat,” he starts to collect the used cutlery and Renjun automatically joins him. “Since we’ll be seeing more of each other while we’re here.” Jaehyun claps him on the shoulder and Renjun _swears_ he sees him smirk.

Once Jaehyun leaves, Renjun slumps in his seat, head in his hands. He has two realisations. One, he’s in for an uncomfortable two nights as Jaehyun’s roommate. Two, his reputation is utterly irredeemable in Jaehyun’s eyes.

At least Renjun can safely say that he no longer has a crush on Jaehyun; he can’t look at those dimples without feeling a slither of fear—he’ll be having nightmares about that smile for years to come.

Despite the minor blip, August is beautiful. After the NCT members fly back to Seoul, Dream immediately goes to perform on The Show, where they achieve their first win, and straight after, Renjun goes to TBS broadcasting station where he begins his two-month stint as a weekday radio DJ. It’s an auspicious start.

Sometimes, Renjun marvels at life’s little quirks. After the _misunderstanding_ that occurred the previous week when Renjun was looking for his manager’s car in the rain, his fans energetically campaigned about his mistreatment to the company. He’s secretly happy about their willingness to instantly support him in this way. Although he had received the news of his radio gig for a while now—he had applied for the role, after all—it almost seemed like comically good timing as a way to appease the fans.

His good cheer continues because the next day is Qixi Festival. Renjun wouldn’t usually care much about Chinese Valentine’s Day since he’s never had a lover of his own to celebrate with. However, this year, when Renjun sees that Qixi is upcoming, he can’t help but feel sentimental.

Qixi Festival celebrates the tale between the cowherd Niulang and the weaver girl Zhinu, whose love was opposed by Zhinu’s mother, the Goddess of Heaven, so they were banished to the opposite side of the Milky Way. However, fate was so moved by their love that once a year on the 7th day of the 7th lunar month, a flock of magpies would form a bridge allowing the lovers to reunite at the centre.

Coincidentally, Donghyuck is away on Qixi. But Renjun, in a whimsical fit of romance, had slipped him a gift in his suitcase before he flew to LA. It was officially their 2-month anniversary, not to mention, it had been a year since they had started their _arrangement_ (not that he was keeping track).

When Renjun returns to the dorm from radio, he sees a flurry of texts from Donghyuck and surmises that his present has been well-received. With a smile, he calls him on FaceTime.

Renjun won’t admit it but he shares Jeno’s opinion that sleepy Donghyuck is the cutest. Something about his puffy face and the natural pout of his lips is very endearing. With the comforter pulled up to his chin, he looks soft and sweet, and Renjun can’t resist screenshotting a few pictures.

“Morning,” Donghyuck rasps. Even pixelated, his smile is a work of art.

“Good morning, baby,” The pet name slips from him automatically, and he flushes, hoping that Donghyuck is too sleepy to notice. “You’re up early. It’s not even seven. Are you jetlagged?”

Donghyuck yawns, smiling sweetly at him, “I got up to listen to you on radio.”

He’s used to the cheesiest of Donghyuck’s lines, but somehow, this simple act of sincerity is more disarming than a thousand declarations of love. Renjun tries to suppress a blush, “Ah really? It’s in Chinese—I thought you’d be bored. I already told you that I would treat you to hotpot. You don’t have to butter me up, you know.”

Donghyuck laughs, his voice husky from disuse, “I wanted to. I missed yesterday’s broadcast because I was on the plane. You were great, Renjun.”

Renjun waves the compliment away, “You don’t even speak Chinese, how would you know I’m any good?”

“You speak enough Korean for me to get the gist of it,” Donghyuck replies easily. “Besides, it’s you. You’re the most qualified out of us to respond to fans in a funny way and offer good advice.”

Renjun is helplessly fond, “Lee Donghyuck, you charmer, if you were here with me, I’d—”

“You’d what?” Donghyuck smiles, just a touch knowing. He adds mischievously, “Would you give me my Chilseok gift in person?”

“Ah, so you know?” Renjun tries to act indifferent, glancing anywhere but the screen. “Do you like it?”

“Renjun, it’s _beautiful_ ,” Donghyuck says breathlessly, his head slightly lowered as he gazes at it. Renjun thinks _he’s_ more beautiful. “I love it—thank you. I’ll cherish it forever. You’re so talented, Renjun-ah.”

Renjun fights the embarrassed pride that swells in him, “Ah, it’s no big deal. Anyways, you don’t need to show me. I drew it—I know how it looks.” He says to stop Donghyuck from taking the camera off the real view.

No matter how many portraits he draws, all of them pale in comparison to the real Donghyuck. A still image can never capture the brilliance of his smile, the light in his eyes, the shade of his skin, the texture of his hair and how vividly effervescent his spirit is.

“You truly have the golden hand,” Donghyuck admires the portrait that Renjun drew for him, something like awe playing on his face. “I don’t remember this. When did you draw it?”

“When we were in West Virginia,” Renjun says, remembering when they had watched the sunset together with the majestic Appalachian Mountains as the backdrop. Donghyuck had glowed in a heavenly way, kissed by the light and blessed by the sun, and Renjun felt so transfixed that he had to immortalise it on paper.

He clears his throat, flustered by his own thoughts, “Anyways, you were the one who gave me those pencils, so I thought I ought to make good use of them.”

Donghyuck doesn’t seem to hear him, too mesmerised by the portrait, “Do I look like that in your eyes?”

Renjun pretends to misunderstand. “What? Ugly?”

This causes Donghyuck to scoff. “I won’t have you defaming either your drawing or my face. Take it back!”

Renjun grins, slipping back into their usual banter. “It’s okay, I know the limitations of my skill. If you look at some of my old sketches, you’ll see how hideous you are in some of them.”

“Old sketches, huh?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, looking at him with a crafty smile. “How old is old? How long have you been drawing me? How long have you been admiring my face and committing it to paper?”

He opens his mouth to retort but then abruptly shuts it. Donghyuck had given him the set of colouring pencils as his birthday gift in 2017. _He’s been drawing Donghyuck since 2017_ —the realisation hits him like a sledgehammer. There must be more than fifty sketches of Donghyuck inside his sketchbook, each one drawn from hours of staring at his likeness, analysing the shape of his facial features, and trying to bring it to life.

Renjun didn’t magically fall in love with Donghyuck after they kissed on July 31st 2018 like a sudden flash of lightning. All these years, Renjun has been _looking_ at Donghyuck, slowly and steadily coming to love him, like the falling of leaves, the turning of tides, and the proof is in his sketchbooks. All these hours that he has spent painstakingly drawing Donghyuck, when no one else has ever captured his attention.

The realisation bamboozles him. Has Renjun loved Donghyuck for so long?

“I..” he finds himself at a loss for words. “Shut up. What are you saying?”

“What? I think it’s cute that you spent hours and hours looking at my face, meticulously trying to recreate it,” Donghyuck looks positively delighted. “I never knew you were such a romantic, Junnie.”

“I’m not!” He denies petulantly, futilely trying to pretend that Donghyuck doesn't has a magnetic grip on him. “It’s just… you have an interesting face to draw.”

“So, I’m your muse then,” Donghyuck laughs, honey sweet, and Renjun can’t help but peek at him, because he’s a terrible fool in love. “Oh Injunnie, you’re the sweetest boyfriend ever.”

Renjun wishes that he could be blasé about the use of the world, but from the brilliant smile that Donghyuck bestows him, it’s obvious that his feelings are on full display.

“My boyfriend is the best,” Donghyuck whispers, his eyes sparkling with happiness and affection. “He draws me portraits when I’m not looking, he slips me gifts when I go on trips, but he gets so shy when I call him out on it… oh, he’s my darling. I just want to kiss him all across his face and over his pretty lips.”

“Oh my God, shut up, do you hear yourself?” He squeaks, his face aflame with colour, flustered beyond belief.

Donghyuck laughs, “Aw, darling, don’t be like that. Won’t you show me your lovely face?”

He pauses from embarrassment to cringe. He mimes gagging, “God, you’re so cheesy. What do I even see in you?”

“Sometimes I ask myself the same question.”

Renjun’s eyes widen—he wasn’t expecting that answer. He thought Donghyuck would make a joke about being irresistible, handsome, amazing etc. and Renjun would have to suppress his egoistic tendencies.

“If either of us don’t deserve the other, it’s me,” Renjun says, the leftover guilt that he can’t put down. “Anyways, you have _some_ redeemable qualities,” He’s still too shy to confess how gone he was for Donghyuck. “Portraits take dedication. I don’t go around drawing just anyone, you know.”

“Next time, I’ll pose for you, okay?” Donghyuck offers, his eyes twinkling like stars.

He knows his _boyfriend_ (Renjun basks in the title for a moment) well enough to become instantly suspicious. “What’s the catch?”

“Renjun, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls,” Donghyuck says, straight-faced.

Renjun’s jaw drops, his face pinkening as his mind conjures the image. Donghyuck bursts into peals of laughter. “You should have seen your face!”

“Yah, Lee Donghyuck!” Renjun raises his fists, trying to hide his very red cheeks.

“Why so shy, Junnie?” Donghyuck smiles, coy, and Renjun knows this is a trap but he falls for it every time. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“That’s- that’s different,” He sputters desperately. “That’s just changing in the dressing room, we’ve never…” He clears his throat, feeling hot beneath his collar.

Because they don’t share the same dorm, Renjun doesn’t think he’s ever seen Donghyuck fully naked before. Sure, he’s seen him shirtless or just in his briefs, but what Donghyuck is proposing—posing fully nude for Renjun to draw him for _hours_ on end—it’s enough to make his brain short circuit into smoke.

Donghyuck laughs, his voice silvery light, “Something to keep in mind, okay?”

Oh, Renjun will assuredly be thinking about this. In the safety of his room. With the door locked. In bed.

Renjun clears his throat, trying to regain his composure, “Anyways, don’t you have to go get ready now?”

Donghyuck sees his question for what it is—a hasty attempt to change the subject—but other than a knowing look, he allows it, “Unfortunately so,” he sighs, looking reluctant. “I miss you.”

Even if Donghyuck says it in aegyo voice, Renjun knows the sentiment to be true, “You big baby,” he tsks, his heart clenching. “You’ll see me in 2 days when you come back for Music Bank.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck gazes at him for a while, his adoration plain in his eyes. Renjun averts his gaze, unused to such unabashed affection. “But I always miss you when I’m not with you.”

“Donghyuck! You can’t just go around saying stuff like that!” He hurriedly moves on. “Anyways, take care of yourself, alright? Good luck at the Capitol Congress event today.”

“I get it,” Donghyuck says faux sorrowfully. “You want to get rid of me; I understand. I’ll go now.”

Renjun knows it’s a joke. But Jaehyun’s words that Donghyuck wears his heart on his sleeve, open to affection, always _giving_ and pretending that he doesn’t get hurt when he doesn’t get anything back plays on his mind.

Donghyuck has said those 3 words to him before. In front of the cameras—as Haechan—he can be as brave as he wants, because it can be written off as fanservice. He doesn’t fear Renjun not reciprocating, because as much as the cameras enable unspoken sentiment to be expressed which wouldn’t have in daily life, conversely it limits the range of emotion that can be genuinely expressed.

It’s not like Renjun has never said the phrase before; as idols, the words hang off the side of their lips, it’s almost meaningless with how often it’s used. It’s not to say that he doesn’t love his fans, but he loves them as a collective, rather than individuals. Privately, he rarely says it. Even with his parents, whom he loves dearly, he doesn’t, and they don’t in return. It just wasn’t an expression commonly used in Chinese culture. He wasn’t Jaemin, who said it to the members so easily, or Jeno, who always said it when he ended a call with his mother.

“Donghyuck,” he says, catching his attention. “I…”

His boyfriend looks at him expectantly, but Renjun can’t finish his sentence. The words get stuck in his throat like toffee in his braces, and he shakes his head, disappointed but not surprised—he’s a coward.

Donghyuck seems to understand, because his eyes soften, a small smile—intimate, tender, _loving_ , “And I you.”

Renjun is so, so lucky. “Take care, okay?” He whispers, wishing that he was close to press a kiss to Donghyuck’s perfect heart shaped lips. “I’ll see you very soon, baby.”

Even after they end the call, as Renjun brushes his teeth, he realises that he’s still smiling because he’s so _happy_. He doesn’t want to sleep because reality feels like a dream, and a dream feels like reality. It’s like dreaming with his eyes open. People say this is love, when you don’t want to sleep because your reality is better than any dream you can conjure.

August continues in its bright, _happy_ glory. Boom gets its second win on the 200th episode of The Show, a nice recurrence after their win for My First and Last on the 100th episode.

Near the end of the month, they go to Da Nang in Vietnam for an event. They have half a day of downtime, so the managers let them go to the beach. It’s a lovely day—endless blue skies with nary a cloud in sight and the shining sun, a perfect day for the beach. Being on the beach reminds him of his Jeju holiday, only this time, he has his _boyfriend_ and his best friends with him.

Renjun runs into the sea because what is a trip to the beach without actually getting wet? The rest of the Dreamies barring Donghyuck don’t seem to agree since they foolishly wore jeans and running shoes, and Renjun laughs as his boyfriend attempts to wrangle Jeno into the water.

Donghyuck loses the tussle expectedly and Jeno escapes to the sunbeds, so it’s just the two of them frolicking in the refreshingly cool sea. Renjun, grinning, splashes water into Donghyuck’s face, who sputters as he spits salt water out of his mouth before he declares wickedly, “It’s on.”

Renjun screeches as Donghyuck gains on him, the better swimmer between the two of them, very much resembling a shark as he agilely cuts through the water. Renjun tries to paddle away but Donghyuck grabs him around the middle, announcing smugly, “Gotcha!”

He readies himself for the imminent mouthful of salt water, but as he moves the wet strands of his hair back from his face, he finds Donghyuck staring at him. Renjun laughs, hooking his arms around his shoulders, “Careful there, baby. You’re going to be drinking a lot of salt water with your mouth hanging open like that.”

Donghyuck huffs, wrapping his arms around Renjun’s waist. The water reaches past their chests, enough depth for them to comfortably tread water. “You can’t blame me—I can’t believe you wore a white shirt.”

Renjun hides a satisfied smile, replying innocently, “As opposed to your black shirt? Vietnam is hot enough without wearing dark colours.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Oh, Renjun knows for sure. Just as Donghyuck knows what he’s doing when he wears those shorts. Renjun didn’t even know he would be fascinated by legs until he saw Donghyuck’s, but they’re so shapely and smooth, not too muscled but not too bony, just miles and miles of tanned perfect legs. It’s impossible to look away when his boyfriend parades his endless legs in those shorts of his.

Renjun smiles, with one arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, he lifts himself to a backstroke. “Help me?” he asks, and Donghyuck obligingly supports his back and thighs, making sure that he’s in the right position.

“Happy?” Donghyuck questions him, guiding him as Renjun makes several cursory paddles aimlessly.

“I am,” Renjun smiles, his ears in the water, just the gentle breeze of wind in his face, the scent of the sea tickling his nose, and he feels at peace with his eyes closed.

When he opens his eyes, the sky is so bright that he sees stars in his vision, so he turns his sight to Donghyuck instead, but his fullsun positively glows beneath the midday sun, brown hair slicked back.

He sits up, reaching to touch Donghyuck’s face, because he cannot be _real_ , so pretty and glittering and right in front of Renjun. Donghyuck lets him, his eyes fixated on his lips, and Renjun _wants_ , he just needs to lean forward a little more and then—

The whooping sound of laughter cuts through the haze, and Renjun whips around, his eyes darting nervously to see who bore witness to—whatever that almost turned into.

No one is within 10 metres of them, and the nearest people are a bunch of old men who are unlikely to recognise them. They’re far enough from land that he can barely make out the blurbs that are his members and his managers.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck says, his eyebrows scrunched in concern, taking a step forward, and he takes two back.

“Don’t,” Renjun warns him, looking around, absurdly feeling like he is under the spotlight.

“We’re two men playing in the public beach,” Donghyuck says. “I assure you, gay lovers aren’t the first thought people are going to have.”

He _knows_ Donghyuck is joking, but something about his sardonic tone, the mirthless smirk playing on his lips and the almost defensive posture he’s holding himself makes Renjun’s hackles rise.

“We’re in public,” he hisses, “do you have to speak so loud?”

“We’re in Vietnam,” Donghyuck retorts, waving a hand. “Those guys _aren’t_ Korean.”

“Why can’t you be more careful?” Renjun shoots back at him.

“We haven’t done _anything_ ,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Look, if we were a straight couple, it’d be different. But we’re two guys splashing water at each other. No one’s going to give us a second look.”

Renjun knows that he was the one who leaned in, but sometimes, he loses his mind with Donghyuck, who almost seems to encourage it. “You’re reckless. If anyone actually saw, not only us, but the whole team would suffer.”

It’s quiet but for the lapping of waves and the distant sound of seagulls flying overhead. It’s almost as if they’re cocooned in their own little bubble, sealed away from the world. Perhaps, to those old guys not paying any attention to them, they could be university students, away on a summer getaway, just cavorting in the water. Maybe, they could even kiss, because there’s no one around and no one has any reason to scrutinise them. They could do anything and be anyone if they were not idols.

And yet, if they were not idols, Renjun would be in China and Donghyuck in Korea, and they would have never met. There would be no clandestine kisses in secret locations, no hand-holding beneath tables, no sleeping on each other’s shoulders in the car. They wouldn’t be Renjun _and_ Donghyuck, they’d be individuals whose paths never intersected, never knowing the existence of someone who was so compatible.

Donghyuck doesn’t respond, other than to bite his lip and nod tightly. He’s upset. Renjun deflates, feeling awful.

“I’m- I know you went through a lot and you’ve waited for me. I wish I could give you the love that you deserve, but… we’re idols. We know the craziness that comes with dating while famous and it’s ten times more difficult for us.”

Standing five metres away from each other—a safe distance, because they’re _not_ gay—Renjun says, “We should head back. They’ll be looking for us.”

“Right,” Donghyuck replies stiffly before plastering a smile. “After you.”

It’s laid bare to Renjun that this is the love that he’s signed up for. A love behind closed doors, a love that’s played off as a marketing tactic to the public, a love that is not accepted in the mainstream public.

Even a decade later, when their contracts have expired and their fans have grown up, Donghyuck and Renjun will never be able to love openly. They won’t ever be able to hold hands or kiss in public, they won’t ever be able to get married. If they stay together, they’ll be the bachelor best friends, fending off questions from family and the public, watching the rest of their peers move on with their life and yet be stuck in the same spot they’ve always been.

It was thrilling initially to sneak kisses in dark corners, to hold hands and hug in front of cameras, to be able to have picnic dates along the Han River in broad daylight and have no one bat an eye on it. But the trade-off is that no one thinks any of it because they don’t expect it to be illicit.

Just as no one thinks anything of a brother and sister who go on holiday and sleep in the same hotel bed, the accepted brotherly camaraderie between boys, that _openness_ in affection on camera _hides_ the truth. It’s reverse psychology, in a way.

Is ignorance bliss or does the truth set him free?

Because as they stand next to each other, Donghyuck feeding him fresh coconut water and slinging an arm around his shoulder, the NCT Daily vlog camera filming their every move, Renjun becomes blatantly aware that their manager would never film them, forbid them from interacting with each other the way they’re told to ignore female idols, if they suspected the truth of their relationship.

This is all he and Donghyuck will ever be to anyone else—roommates, best friends, _platonic_ soulmates.

No matter how many years they have together and how much time goes by, they will never be able to be open about their relationship like straight couples. Renjun has plans to stay in the public eye and Donghyuck has too. It would be career suicide for them to ever come forward.

For as long as they are together, their love will be a dirty little secret, something to be hidden away, a thing to be ashamed of.

The question that remains is—is this enough for them?

**2019 November**

The Dream Show is aptly named—the concert feels like a dream, something that couldn’t happen in reality, the drawing of a full stop at the end of the credits.

In September, they were told that Dream would be holding their first concert. Not a fan meeting but a proper concert where they could perform their entire discography. Renjun was so happy he almost started crying. In the back of his mind, he had feared that the year might pass without any acknowledgement of their achievement. Renjun refuses to think of it as anything other than that. It’s not some farewell, consolation gift—it’s _not_.

Renjun is pathetically grateful to be able to have a concert _period_. Does it matter that they got Jangchung Arena with 4500 seats while 127 got KSPO Dome with a seating capacity of 15000? Does it matter that fans were so outraged—the bloodbath for tickets was so intense—that a third day had to be added at the last minute? Sometimes, he wonders if the company’s strategy for Dream is as haphazard as it seems, or whether those seemingly arbitrary decisions are calculated to milk every last Won from fans with bare minimum investment.

Regardless, fast forward two months, they are finally at the last day of the concert.

Renjun, finished with his styling, sits in the dressing room, absently wondering if he should drink some water to hydrate his throat or would it tempt fate and make him need to go to the toilet at an inopportune time. Jaemin, Jeno and Donghyuck are getting their makeup done. Jisung is practicing his choreography in the mirror as if he can’t do it in his sleep. Chenle slouches on the sofa, playing PUBG unconcernedly.

“How can you play games at a time like this?” Renjun asks incredulously. “Aren’t you nervous?”

Chenle pulls out his AirPods, pausing the game, “We’ve done this for the past 2 days already.”

“Sure, but today is the _last_ day,” Renjun clears his throat, switching to Mandarin. “It feels different.”

“It’s not the last time we’ll perform as Dream,” Chenle says, matter of fact. “We still have year-end performances and we’re going on tour.”

Renjun presses his lips together, sulking, “You have another year.”

“I don’t know about that,” Chenle shrugs, glancing at the managers even though they don’t speak Chinese and aren’t close enough to hear them. “They’ve said nothing about me. Maybe I’ll join you in unemployment.”

“You’re weirdly calm and accepting about this prospect,” Renjun observes dryly, raising his eyebrow. “Don’t you want to stay in Dream?”

“Of course I do,” Chenle replies. “Perhaps this tour will be our last as Dream before they disband us all, perhaps it’s not. Whatever happens will happen. It’s all up in the company’s hands. I can’t do anything about it and stressing over it doesn’t help at all.”

Sometimes, Renjun really envies Chenle’s happy-go-lucky personality, how he could roll with the punches and come out of it so unbothered, like water off the duck’s back. He wasn’t like Donghyuck, who pretended to be indifferent but cared deeply—Chenle genuinely wasn’t too concerned.

Maybe it’s a product of his environment—Chenle was a child prodigy who had gone to Austria as part of the Chinese delegation as an eleven-year-old, performing at the legendary Wiener Musikverein of Mozart fame. He had released 3 solo albums and even held his own solo concert in Shanghai with 1200 people attending, all at the age of thirteen. Hell, Chenle hadn’t even thought of becoming an idol—he never thought to audition for SM—he was focusing on school. They had headhunted _him_ , calling his mother and asking Chenle to join the company. The debut of NCT Dream had been delayed to accommodate him.

Perhaps, Chenle doesn’t fear the future because life has always been so kind to him. Everything seems to work out just fine in the end. Objectively, Renjun _knows_ that he’s not being fair—Chenle is hardworking and talented and has gone through a lot to be where he is. But it’s undeniable that in their lifetimes, they ran at different starting lines. Chenle has a cushy contingency while Renjun has played all his cards.

Renjun wishes he could be as blasé as Chenle is towards the future, that he can allow it to guide him in each and every way, trusting that he won’t be steered in the wrong direction, but he can’t. Life hasn’t handed him things on a golden platter, he’s always had to fight for it.

“Just one day,” Renjun shakes his head, patting Chenle on the shoulder, “I’d like to live in your shoes.”

“Why? You want to be taller?” Chenle snarks at him, grinning, and Renjun smacks him on the shoulder.

“You are not the Park Jisung that you think you are,” Renjun retorts, pushing unwanted thoughts away.

“At least I’m still growing,” Chenle replies smugly. “You’re stuck in midget size forever, old man.”

Renjun puts Chenle in a chokehold, who flails about shrieking, attracting the attention of the stylist noonas. They don’t get much more time to fool around as the stylists pull them into chairs for the final makeup check.

Once they’re done, they go to greet the seniors and guests who have come. As he receives them, he ponders upon this reversal of roles—his first concert was Super Junior’s Super Show and he had been to BoA’s concert just recently, going backstage to greet her. He used to wonder what his seniors felt like when guests came to greet them, and now, he’s the one getting felicitations from others. It certainly feels like he’s come full circle.

Before he had his first concert, he had asked idols like Minghao and Junhui what it was like. They all had varying answers, but there was a shared consensus that after the pre-show jitters, time flashed by in a haze of excitement, adrenaline and euphoria. When they performed at events, generally just as they felt fully warmed up and at their best, it was time to say goodbye. But at concerts, their tension could peak and maintain at the high point throughout the show.

Renjun understands why idols say nothing compares to their own concerts. Everyone in the audience comes for them and them only, holding their lightsticks, screaming their fanchants, singing their songs. Their enthusiasm is infectious, creating an incredible synergy between fans and idols. It’s intoxicating having an adoring crowd scream your name. It makes you forget that your throat is hoarse from singing and screaming, eradicates the fatigue in your muscles from dancing, and erases the discomfort of heat and uncomfortable clothing.

Perhaps Jaemin can be forgiven for getting a boner onstage but still persisted to show-off his abs. After all, he’s a dramatic exhibitionist who indulges his beloved fans. Who cares that his mother and grandmother were there?

One moment he’s singing Don’t Need Your Love, standing within kissing distance to Donghyuck, his right hand caressing the side of his head. Donghyuck’s eyes, sultry and searing, stare back at him and Renjun feels like he’s been set on fire. No longer does he have to envy Taeil for being on the receiving end of that half-lidded stare in Baby Don’t Like It. Now, he’s singing onstage, under the same spotlight as his boyfriend.

The next moment Jeno is ripping his shirt open to the roaring of the crowd—so deafening that he could hear it through his earpiece—and then they’re changing into their final outfit to sing the encore songs. La La Love is such a happy, upbeat song but this concert has Pavlovian conditioned him to feel nothing but dread and despair. Because it signifies the end. And on the night of their third concert, the end feels especially, painfully final.

A concert makes you feel like you are on top of the world, like you are invincible, indomitable and immortal.

But what goes up, must inevitably come down.

When Chenle begins the ending ment—thanking the fans for bearing witness to their growth, joking that he worked hard to show his cool sides to the fans, thanking them repeatedly for attending their concert and supporting them all these years—Renjun is doing alright; He thinks maybe he can get out of this unscathed.

Then, it’s Donghyuck’s turn. He begins normally, thanking the members’ parents for raising them, thanking all of the staff for contributing to the creation of this concert. When Donghyuck pauses to put his earpiece back in, Renjun _knows_ instinctively what is coming up—the waterworks are impending.

Right after Donghyuck lilts, “Are you expecting me to cry?” he starts getting teary-eyed. In a choked-up voice, he says, “The Dream Show is like an award given to me this year. While having many activities, although there were lots of hard times, a lot of people helped me by my side.” He goes quiet and Renjun sees his eyes get red, and he looks down. “Above everything else, I am most thankful for the Dream members.”

Donghyuck turns to Chenle, burying his head in his shoulder to try and compose himself. It tears Renjun up inside, seeing Donghyuck finally expressing how he really feels, the anguish he tries so hard to hide. His boyfriend is in pain and he _has to_ do something. Renjun goes over to hug him, trying to comfort him wordlessly that it’s okay. Jeno comes over to back hug Donghyuck, patting his tummy before moving away.

“ _Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, Jisung_ ,” he says their names, blinking hard as he stares at the floor, “because they supported me, took care of me and understood me, I had much more fun.” Something in Renjun chips, he thinks of the arduous year Donghyuck has been through, how he never complained and always _smiled_ through his hardship. He presses a hand to his eyes. “Above everything else, I miss Mark hyung even more today.”

The mention of Mark _breaks_ something in Jisung, who crouches down with his back to the stage, just crying. Renjun goes over to check up on him, crouching down to look at him. When he sees the pure devastation on Jisung’s face, obviously thinking about the four of them graduating and leaving him behind just like Mark had to, the tears well over and Renjun has to cover his own face, not wanting the maknae to see him upset.

“We also feel what everyone’s feeling—all your worries, regrets and sorrows.” Jisung weeps loudly and Renjun tries to hush him, giving him a bit of comfort. “I can do nothing but to smile wide for you and perform my best on stage,” Donghyuck again tries to be positive, “So everyone, as I said yesterday, instead of regretting the past, I think it’s better to think of tomorrow and the upcoming future with a bright smile.”

“I was really happy for the past three days,” Donghyuck takes a long moment, before he remarks wistfully, “I don’t think these kinds of memories will come again in the future.” The crowd screams their denial, and Donghyuck concludes with, “I really love you and I feel so thankful. I hope we’ll meet again in the future.”

All too soon, it’s Renjun’s turn. He feels self-conscious as the camera pans to his teary face and he tries to smile. He wants to say something pretty, to reassure the fans, but he’s so upset that what comes out is, “Reality is just… too cold. Even though reality is so cold,” he hiccups, unable to hold back tears, “because of everyone and the members' existence, I felt the warmth beneath the chill.”

He has to turn around, the tears swimming in his eyes again, not wanting the fans to see him so distraught. His poise escapes him. He swipes at his eyes with his sleeve, and Jeno comes over to give him a hug. He _knows_ he’s being ridiculous; he feels it when Jeno asks “Why are you like this?” but he can’t help it, weakly defending himself with “I don’t know” and cries even harder. He’s full-on sobbing when Donghyuck comes over to hug him, pulling him into the crook of his shoulder, and Renjun clutches at him like he’s his only lifeline.

When he lets go, the words spill out of his mouth, “All my sorrows left one by one. I’m really thankful,” he feels so tired, so overcome that he blubbers, “I really don’t want to say this but everything comes to an—”

“NO!” The fans wail, many of them crying themselves, which triggers his own tears.

He takes a deep breath to compose himself. “When I was performing earlier, I thought about the moments which you captured on your phone won’t happen again in the future. Even though there’ll be more beautiful things in the future like Haechan said, but right now I feel very regretful.” He can’t help but lament, his strength leaving him, “Really, life is just cold and this is a helpless situation. Thank you for being my warmth.”

This might be the last chance he has the bravery to say this, so he goes, “When Haechan talked about the members, I realised I have also never talked to them properly even once. Firstly, to our Chenle,” he dissolves into tears as he looks at the boy who didn’t speak any Korean when he first came, who Renjun had taken under his wing and always considered his little brother. “When you first came to Korea you went through lots of hard times. Thank you for talking about it to me a lot. Thank you for always smiling so brightly.”

He then turns to Donghyuck, and he can’t look directly into his eyes or else he’ll lose his nerve, “To our Haechan—honestly Haechan is a really fun member, right?” Donghyuck doesn’t smile, his face solemn. “But how can anyone be happy every day?” He tries to express his gratefulness, hoping that he knows how much his contributions are valued. “Thank you for making us happy and being fun each time you’re with us.”

“To Jeno who is always holding our members,” he says sincerely, for all the times Jeno has been a pillar of strength even when he felt just as lost and hopeless as the rest. “I’m always thankful because you lead us.”

“To Jisung, our maknae,” He lets out a watery laugh when he sees Jisung with his back turned, who shakes his head petulantly when Renjun calls his name like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the words because it’ll make him cry. Renjun goes over to touch his forehead lightly, and Jisung touches that spot as if it hurt him, “Even if you act like you don’t in front of us, thank you for taking care of us behind our backs.”

He looks at Jaemin, who put in all these years of training, had to go on hiatus for more than a year, and then fought his way back to them. Jaemin—who always smiles brightly like he’s never known pain, “Our Jaemin too—even though not by words, thank you for always taking care of us and treating us so well.”

“Thank you for treating Dream so well like this.” The rest of the members gather around him in a line, linking arms with each other in solidarity.

“Finally,” he says, looking into the audience at where they were situated. “I’d like to also thank my parents who came here from China.” He bows as he concludes his speech, unable to say anymore. When Donghyuck slips his hand in his, he squeezes back, taking the comfort he offers.

Then, it’s Jeno’s turn. “These past 3 days had been a very happy time for Dream. No matter how we look at it, we…” He trails off, before mustering a smile, “Meeting everyone again is still something we don’t know about. But please don’t be too sad. Someday, we will make sure to not leave everyone’s side. Everyone’s very–”

“We will wait for Dream!” The fans scream.

This brings a more genuine smile to his face. “Someday we will return. We will be very thankful if you’re willing to wait for us.” Jeno clears his throat, “I’ve never thanked the members properly one by one too. I feel very regretful after hearing what Haechan said before.” He pauses before saying, “My members, I love you.” Jeno smiles, “We will someday return to everyone’s side. Let’s promise to meet again.” He sticks out his pinkie.

It’s Jisung’s turn after and it takes him a moment before he can even talk, shaking his head like just opening his mouth will allow the sobs to escape. He touches his fringe nervously, and then says, “I said that I wouldn’t cry that hard. In my life… this might be the last concert in my whole life.” This revelation is obviously one that he’s thought long and painfully about, because he breaks down into violent tears after he says it.

“I’m really happy because of my first concert to the extent that it will remain in my memories forever,” He sobs, barely able to get the words out, visibly red-faced beneath the foundation that Renjun is worried Jisung might faint from crying so hard. “Thank you for leaving such good memories. Ah it’s driving me crazy.” Renjun goes to Jisung, lowering his mic, wordlessly telling him that it’s okay just to take a breather to gather himself. “Forever, even before I die, I’ll say that I was very happy for having these unforgettable memories, thank you so much Czennies.”

Finally, it’s Jaemin’s turn, who is left with the unenviable task of bringing the mood back up as half the team are in puddles of tears. “Everyone gave such sincere ments but concerts can’t be too sad, right, everyone? I could never stand watching our Czennies cry, so let’s not do this.”

Somehow, the fans start chanting for Jaemin to show his abs, which completely flummoxes him, and Donghyuck recovers enough to make a quip about their change of heart so quickly. This brings a round of laughter to the fans, and Renjun can’t help but smile at Donghyuck.

“Our Dreamies have worked so hard for these 3 days concert so I‘d like to ask for a round of applause for our members,” Jaemin says, and the fans clap for them. “Everyone’s, it’s not the end. You know it’s not the end until it ends, right? So please keep watching our Dreamies closely and supporting us. Everyone please don’t be too sad. Please keep on loving us. Thank you.”

With that, they move onto their final song—Beautiful Time. As they hold their Neobong, walking to different corners of the stage, the fans sing along with them. It’s so beautiful that Renjun can’t look away for a second from this stunning green ocean. There’s something so mesmerising about this sea of green, he feels like he’s at an aquarium, watching seaweed sway in the water illuminated by light.

“Our beautiful time,” they sing in chorus, “always,” and Renjun turns to look at Donghyuck, who smiles back at him, finishing with an impressive acapella vocal run on “ _my love_.”

“Yo Dream!” Donghyuck leads, leading them to shout, “Jjeoreo juja fighting!”

They take their final bow, joining hands beneath the bright spotlight, and Renjun interlocks his fingers with Donghyuck. At long last, Renjun is here with Donghyuck—no longer just a passive observer, but at what cost?

They leave the stage reluctantly, waving at every direction of the arena, unwilling to say goodbye even as the stage lift lowers them, for this might be the last time they will ever get to experience this.

Backstage, there’s the curious deprivation of senses. He feels partially deaf, like his ears are clogged with cotton in the abrupt silence after the noise of the concert, and he feels blind in the darkness backstage after the strong lights onstage. There’s this immense euphoria for a show well-done, but at the same time, there’s a numbing sort of sadness when _it’s over_.

He doesn’t know who initiates it—maybe it’s Donghyuck, he’s not sure—but somehow, in the middle of changing out of their stage clothes, Jisung starts crying and someone hugs him, and they end up in a group hug, shirtless and sweaty and with their trousers half undone. It’s absolutely absurd, but he needs it, he needs to be with his group, his love, because he feels like they’ll float away like balloons if he doesn’t hold on tight.

Eventually, Chenle complains, “Hyung, get your sweaty armpit out of my face, I swear—”

That makes Jisung laugh, a wet blubbering sound. They let go of him, smacking butts and pinching available nipples as they change back into their own clothes to the relief of their longsuffering stylist noonas.

When Jisung has been able to temporarily stem the flow of his tears, they make their way out, waving goodbye to the fans who plaster themselves against the barriers before they go for their celebratory dinner.

SMT House is the company’s latest venture. Regardless of clever marketing tactics, the restaurant is lovely with high ceilings, tall glass windows, marble interior, leather seats, moody ambient lighting and chandeliers. It’s the kind of place that people expect in Apgujeong with a matching price tag. The easiest way to illustrate its fancy nature are the tiny portions served on huge, heavy plates that probably double up as the waiters’ dumbbells.

In between Korean tapas and Emos wine—produced from Lee Soo Man’s own private vineyard—they listen to speeches by management, the production company, and finally, their own Lee Jeno.

Maybe it’s because the portions are small and the glasses of wine are diligently refilled by the attentive waiters, but Renjun finds himself tired and emotional. When Jeno speaks on their behalf to over a hundred people, all of them older and more experienced than them, recounting their personal struggles, thanking them for their hard work in producing the best concert possible for Dream—Renjun’s tears ducts think it’s a good time to make themselves known for the boy who had the undesirable task to take on the role of leader when no one wanted to.

They raise a toast to Jeno when he returns to the table, sheepish and pink-faced, once again the cute, smiley-eyed boy they know. Donghyuck even plops a kiss on his cheek before Renjun reels him back.

With immediate hunger satiated and some socialising liquid inside their system, people start mingling. One by one, the Dreamies leave the table, until Renjun's the only one left digging into his tonkatsu. When he’s done eating, he scans the room, spotting his parents with someone he doesn’t recognise. Curiosity piqued, he wanders over.

“Ah, Renjun,” his mother smiles warmly when she spots him, patting the space next to her to indicate he should sit. “We were just talking about you here with this gentleman.”

Renjun smiles politely, mentally assessing him. At first glance, Renjun clocks him as a Chinese man in his mid-thirties, but the stylish cut of his clothing seems Korean. But considering his parents were speaking to him for an extended period of time, he wagers that the man has to be Chinese. Indeed, when the man extends his hand for Renjun to shake, he doesn’t fold his other arm to his midsection the way Koreans do.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Renjun,” The man says, and as Renjun suspected, he is indeed Chinese, speaking with a strong Beijing accent. “I’m Chen Yongguo, I work in the Label V division.”

If Renjun wasn’t sitting, he would have fallen to his feet. He has to have hallucinated the last sentence. _Label V?_ This can’t be happening. Not now. Now so fast. Not today, when he’s just finished his last concert in Seoul, the tear tracks still fresh on his face.

“Ah,” Renjun clears his throat, trying not to sound as strangled as he feels. There’s something in his throat—he grasps for the nearest glass in front of him to take a sip. “That explains why I haven’t met you before.”

Chen Yongguo smiles, friendly, “Although we haven’t met, I’ve heard a lot about you—you’re everywhere. As I was telling your parents,” he gestures at them and Renjun watches with distant horror as his parents smile proudly, “you have immense popularity in China. Your radio programme has garnered lots of fans back home. No wonder why TBS broadcasting station extended your contract and made you a regular fixture.”

Renjun tells himself it’s a compliment—he shouldn’t look any deeper than that. He shouldn’t consider if the company views his radio programme simply as a way to raise his profile with the Chinese audience before they ship him off to China. It does him _no good_ to think that way.

“Thank you,” he smiles woodenly. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Not at all,” Chen Yongguo says, leaning forward. “Because I like you, I’m going to let you into a secret—the company has _big plans_ for you.” He winks at him conspiratorially, “I don’t think a boy like you should be _worried_ that this is your last concert, if you know what I mean. You have a bright future ahead of you.”

Renjun is struck immobile as all of his worst fears are confirmed.

The company is going to shove him into WayV. His solo activities—his radio, his endorsements in China—they were all to attract buzz and generate publicity before his big debut in WayV.

 _No, no, no_. Renjun thinks he’s going to faint, his vision tunnelling white and the noise of the room muffling as if underwater. _It’s too soon_ , he thinks hysterically. He thought he would have more time, he thought Label V would need more time to prepare, he thought he would have resolved everything with—

A familiar honeyed voice fills his ears. Even through the chaos of his head, Renjun hears it with vivid clarity. His head snaps to the front, where he sees a golden boy standing beneath light, his brown hair aglow like a halo.

China is his past, Renjun tells himself futilely, China is his future.

Korea, as he watches the boy who emboldens the sun sing into the microphone, is his present.

He’s drawn from his reverie when someone touches his arm. His parents don’t even seem to notice his lapse of focus at the sound Donghyuck’s voice.

His father stands up, clasping him on the shoulder, “Thank you for talking to us, Yongguo. It’s good to have another Northerner looking out for Renjun in the company.”

“Of course,” Chen Yongguo laughs, patting him on the back. “Anything to help out a fellow compatriot. I look forward to seeing you soon, Renjun.”

Only his idol etiquette lessons save him from expressing his true sentiment.

He doesn’t know what happens afterwards—he’s not sure what he said to his parents before he went back to his table—he only knows that every time the waiters come round with wine, he holds out his glass, until the world is suppressed but for Donghyuck’s voice. This, he knows with discerning certainty.

He watches Donghyuck sing with the live band. He can’t recall the song, only that Donghyuck sang it so beautifully he was nearly reduced to tears. Donghyuck is so _beautiful_ —he glows even in the dim lights, even dressed down in plain clothes, even when all the idol glitter has been scrubbed off of him. The sun is the sun, outshining everyone, no matter how many clouds may try to cover it, no matter how many stars try to rival it, forever it remains the brightest in the milky way.

Eventually, the celebratory dinner finishes, and the six of them pile into the van. Their manager doesn’t even bother asking if Donghyuck wants to go back to the 127 dorm—the way Jeno is clinging onto him for dear life in the back row doesn’t leave that much of a possibility.

Renjun is _fine_. A drunk Jeno is an affectionate Jeno. That is, until they get back and he comes out from the toilet after washing up to see Jeno trying to tuck Donghyuck in his own room. Now _that’s_ too much. Before he knows it, he’s pulling Donghyuck out of Jeno’s bed by the wrist, ignoring his sleepy protests, completely disregarding Jeno’s confused noises, locking the door to his room and shoving his boyfriend onto _his_ bed.

There’s something so visceral about the image—this beautiful boy, all long legs, tanned skin and large dark eyes, stark against his white sheets—a fantasy that Renjun has visited too many times on this exact bed. Seeing Donghyuck _here_ in his room, this wunderkind of a boy surrounded by all of Renjun’s mundane possessions, it feels like a slice of something unreal, a dream that he has to wake up from in the morning, and something in him just _snaps_.

_He’ll never be yours._

Desperation drives him to press Donghyuck down onto the mattress, Renjun’s legs bracketing his hips, kissing him furiously, trying to ignore the clock counting down in his head.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck gasps, voice petering out into a moan as he bites down on the sensitive part of his neck lightly, before laving his tongue over the spot to soothe it. “Careful, careful—no marks.”

Renjun makes a grumbling noise at the back of his throat. He moves back up to kiss him, slipping his tongue and tasting the wine that he drank tonight.

“You’re… ah, you’re more aggressive than usual tonight,” Donghyuck says, pulling back from his kiss to say.

“Shush,” Renjun shoots backs, chasing his mouth to join them again.

“Renjun—”

He doesn’t want to talk. Can’t Donghyuck see that they have some little time left? Why did he want to talk?

“Shut up.” He bites down on Donghyuck’s bottom lip, perhaps a bit more harshly than he should, and his boyfriend hisses, pushing him off.

He falls onto his back and Donghyuck sits up, his face flush and his lips red. Renjun props himself up, reaching for Donghyuck again, but he puts a stop to by raising a hand for him to stop.

“Alright, you’re not usually like this. Will you tell me what’s up or am I going to have to withhold kisses until you talk?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, like a teacher speaking to a misbehaving student.

“It’s nothing,” Renjun says petulantly.

“Tell me.”

“Why can’t we just enjoy what we have _right now_?” He shoots back, annoyed that Donghyuck keeps pressing.

Donghyuck frowns, sensing that Renjun doesn’t mean the scant hours they have tonight. “What do you mean?”

Renjun really doesn’t want to talk. It’ll never make sense to Donghyuck anyways. “It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, affecting a coy tone that usually gets Donghyuck to fold, “don’t you want to kiss me, baby?”

Donghyuck doesn’t fall for it, “You’re drunk,” he muses, almost to himself. “Let’s not do things that we’ll regret, okay? Maybe I should sleep with Jeno.”

“ _Jeno_?” Renjun snaps incredulously, pulling away from Donghyuck in his displeasure. “You want to sleep with the boy you had a crush on while your boyfriend is right here?”

“Renjun, you know that’s not what I mean,” Donghyuck backtracks.

“Every time we have issues, you _always_ go to Jeno. What am I supposed to think?”

“Jeno is my best friend!” Donghyuck says sharply. “I talk to him, just like you cosy up to Jaemin and have those deep chats with him at night. I’m not accusing you of anything, but just as you can have friends, I can too.”

Renjun knows that Donghyuck is too honourable to cheat, but his insecurity sees foes in the shadows. There’ll be more _Jeno’s_ after Renjun is gone, handsome and muscular men around Donghyuck that he can’t possibly compete with. “The difference is I’ve never had a crush on Jaemin, but you were in love with Jeno for _years_.”

“Look, even if you don’t believe me that I’m over him, Jeno is straight and has a girlfriend! He’s not interested in me!” Donghyuck retorts. “Stop using Jeno to pick a fight and tell me what’s wrong!”

“Everything’s wrong!” Renjun exclaims. “How can you think anything is okay after tonight’s concert?”

Donghyuck hands him a bottle. “You’re drunk. Drink some water, take a breath, and tell me why you’re upset.”

Renjun takes a moody gulp of water, feeling patronised like a child.

“I know tonight was upsetting and our future with Dream is uncertain, but I don’t get why you’re so upset,” Donghyuck asks. “Why do you say we have so little time left? I’m not going overseas for another ten days.”

Renjun drags a hand over his face, “That’s not what I meant. We have what—maybe a month and a half left together. A third of that time you’re overseas with 127, another third is spent at practice, and the last third is spent at schedules. There’s _no time_.”

“December has always been hectic,” Donghyuck still looks visibly confused. “We have January and February, maybe things will calm down then and we’ll be able to spend more time together.”

Donghyuck is so _clueless_ , he doesn’t understand at all. They’re on two completely different wavelengths and it just makes Renjun feel drained, the energy sapped from him. “ _When_? In between 127’s tour, award shows and 127’s comeback preparation?” Renjun laughs mirthlessly. “We have no time left.”

“You know I have no say in 127’s schedules. But it’s always been this way and we’ve been okay?” Donghyuck’s voice lilts upwards like he’s unsure if it’s a question or a statement.

Donghyuck can’t even ascertain the veracity of that. “How long have we been together?” Renjun doesn’t let him answer. “Five months, and because we had Dream activities.”

Donghyuck seems to know where they’re heading because he tenses up, “Dream still has tour dates until next year. And the company might not…”

“For God’s sake, Donghyuck,” Renjun exhales, pressing a hand to his eyes. “It’s an uncomfortable subject but it’s blatant that the company treats the units differently. I don’t need company reports to tell me what’s going to happen next year. 127 hasn’t had a comeback for more than six months. What happens after the comeback? Tour—because it generates the most revenue. Where does that leave Dream?”

“What are you trying to say?” Donghyuck says, at long last.

“The company doesn’t care about Dream,” Renjun says tiredly. “We don’t matter to them, not like the _fixed_ group. This is it for us.”

“How can you even be sure?” Donghyuck looks at his face searchingly, “You know something, don’t you?”

Renjun gives in, “A Label V executive spoke to me tonight.”

He waits for the inevitable explosive reaction, but—nothing.

“Oh? What did he say?” Donghyuck asks casually, as if they were just talking about a random fan.

Renjun stares at him, disbelieving that Donghyuck could be so _indifferent_ to the worst thing that could happen to their relationship. “What do you think he said? For what reason do you think staff from the company’s _separate_ Chinese label would have wanted to speak to me?”

Donghyuck purses his lips like he’s contemplating what to do. “He said you were going to debut in WayV?” Renjun nods—it was insinuated enough for that to be the truth. Donghyuck musters a smile, “Well, congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do great there.”

“Congratulations?” Renjun stares at him dumbly. “ _Congratulations_.” He closes his eyes, unable to bear it.

This is the death of their relationship and Donghyuck _congratulates_ him.

“What? Isn’t knowing you’ll join the permanent group better than being left in limbo?”

“Don’t you even see it for what it is? We’ll never be seen together if I’m in WayV! Look what they did to Sicheng—what do you think they’re going to do to me?”

Donghyuck frowns, still not getting the point. “What they did to Sicheng hyung was awful—"

“You don’t understand,” Renjun feels like he’s talking to a wall because Donghyuck is so _blind_. “We’ll never be together again. You’ll be jet setting all over the world, and I’ll be stuck in China.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Donghyuck says placatingly. “It’ll just be like a long-distance relationship.”

“Long distance?” Renjun echoes. “Oh yes, because our track record for that is so great.”

The most common reason for idol couples to breakup is distance. It’s tough to maintain a connection, people drift apart as they lead separate lives, and the spark just fizzled out.

“That’s different,” Donghyuck snaps pointedly. “We weren’t in a relationship then. We didn’t speak because _you_ fucked up and didn’t apologise to me for months. You can’t blame the lack of communication on anything other than our big fight. But we’ve moved past that, haven’t we? Being in a relationship is _different_.”

Renjun feels abashed when Donghyuck mentions how horrendously he behaved in March. “I’m sorry I keep going back to that. I know what I said was wrong and you were right to be angry, but it set a precedent for us.”

_Have we really gotten past that? Have I really become any better? Do I actually deserve Donghyuck?_

Donghyuck’s words only serve to prove his point. Their relationship is dynamic and electrifying, but they’re argumentative. Renjun keeps _fucking up_ and Donghyuck is going to get tired of him. Renjun knows he’s an inadequate boyfriend, and sooner than later, Donghyuck is going to realise that they are better options out there than this sinking ship long distance relationship they might have.

“You say that like we aren’t happier since we patched things up,” Donghyuck says, smiling ruefully. “Has dating really been so awful?”

“No, of course not,” Renjun allows, and Donghyuck’s smile fades at the sombreness of his tone. “Our time together has been amazing.”

“And?” Donghyuck prompts, looking at him expectantly.

There are so many words that Renjun wants to say but he can’t get them out of his mouth. Renjun doesn’t want to destroy the rose-tinted glasses Donghyuck still perceives him from.

Donghyuck wants an answer and Renjun doesn’t know how to give him the one he wants. “And… it was a lot easier to have these amazing times because we were actually together—promoting, working as Dream. You can’t deny that.”

Donghyuck looks flabbergasted. “ _That’s_ your problem against the idea of being in a long distance relationship?” He asks incredulously. “That’s all you have to say about it? You think that we only got together because _what_? Our proximity? It was more convenient? Why does it sound like you’re saying that we had to resolve our fight just because we’d be promoting together?”

“I…” He closes his mouth, not knowing what to say without exposing himself. Lamely, he says, “It helped,” This seems to agitate Donghyuck so Renjun jokes, “it’d be difficult to promote together if we were feuding.”

“That’s _not_ funny,” Donghyuck gapes. “We’re in a relationship because we _love_ each other. Do you really think that we only got together because we’re right next to each other? Because it’s convenient and good for the group’s dynamics? You wanted me to stay the good-spirited mood maker so you dated me?”

“No,” Renjun denies, feeling like he’s treading on unstable ground. “That’s not it. I’m just saying that being in a long distance relationship is a lot more difficult. That’s all.”

“You mean being in a long distance relationship is more difficult for _you_ ,” Donghyuck corrects, offended. “Our current relationship has _never_ been a walk in the park, I assure you. Or have you forgotten about all our past struggles?”

“Whatever our relationship is, it’ll be ten times more difficult when I’m in WayV,” Renjun flounders for words, trying to express himself without angering Donghyuck. “On the off chance we’re in the same place, if we’re seen together, people might get suspicious. It’s not a casual hangout anymore—it’s deliberate. You know the company likes keeping the groups separate.”

“The company has _nothing_ to do with this. It sounds more like you just don’t want to be seen with me,” Donghyuck says sharply. “You’re still so terrified by the fact that you’re gay, and you think everyone is just waiting to expose it. No one would think _anything_ of former groupmates hanging out. We’re not suddenly enemies. You’re touting the company line because it’s a convenient excuse for you.”

“I’m not—” Renjun breaks off, looking at Donghyuck pleadingly. “I just want to protect us. Our careers will be ruined irreversibly if we’re outed.”

“Why do you think we’ll be outed if we’re in a long distance relationship?” Donghyuck demands, his hands on his hips. “The only difference between then and now would be our proximity.”

“Donghyuck, I don’t want to fight with you,” Renjun says, running a hand through his hair. He smiles appeasingly, “Let’s not waste the remainder of our time fighting.”

“Remainder of our time?” Donghyuck narrows his eyes, his lips thinning. “You know what, you keep saying that tonight. What are you really saying? Stop tiptoeing around and just spit it out.”

Renjun can’t bring himself to answer, staring down at his hands.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Donghyuck scoffs. “You know what _I_ think? You’re using how difficult it’ll be for us to try a long distance relationship as a front… in reality, I think _you_ just _don’t_ want it.”

Renjun looks up just in time to meet Donghyuck’s eyes as he asks challengingly, “Do you want our relationship, or not?”

Of course Renjun _wants_ it. But whether he believes they can have it is another story. It’s not just about his wants, it’s about feasibility. He remains silent and Donghyuck scowls, fed up with his silence.

“If you want to breakup, just say the fucking word. Don’t try to justify it by pretending to be concerned about our future. I get your message loud and clear. All along you only saw me as a convenient choice who’s not worth your time if there are no physical benefits. You only viewed me as a fair weather boyfriend!”

“What? No! That’s not it!” Renjun begins to panic, because this isn’t going the way he wanted it to go at all. “I _care_ about you, of course I do. But anyone can see that the industry we’re in… the paranoia and all this sneaking around that we do—how can it possibly last? Let alone when we’re no longer in the same group," he says, resigned. "I’m trying to be realistic. I don’t want you to get your hopes up only to have them dashed.” Renjun smiles tentatively, “But we’re together now, don’t you see? Let’s enjoy our time together while we promote as Dream, before I have to go to China. Doesn’t that sound better than worrying about it?”

Donghyuck stares at him, wounded, as if Renjun has punched him in the face, “Are you fucking serious? You expect me to be in a relationship with you until the year ends, and then we’ll break up? You’re putting an expiration date on our relationship like it’s food for consumption?”

“Well, I—”

“No.” Donghyuck cuts him off. He takes a deep breath and repeats himself resolutely. “No. I won’t have it.”

Renjun reaches for him, trying to take his hand so he’ll look at him, “Donghyuck, you don’t get it—”

“No, I get it perfectly,” Donghyuck pulls away. His eyes are hard and cutting, and Renjun flinches, “It’s all become glaringly clear. You never wanted to be in a proper relationship with me. You _never_ saw me as a long-term option.” He says harshly, “You chose me because I was there—a gay man you could experiment with. Maybe the thrill of the forbidden was exciting for you and you got some pleasure out of it, but a long distance relationship doesn’t have any physical benefits, so you don’t want me when I’m not a convenient choice for you!”

The tide is rising and Renjun feels like he’s drowning. “That’s not what—”

“I won’t have it. I won’t!” Donghyuck hits the comforter between them like he’s drawing the battle lines. “I won’t be your 2-month boyfriend. I’m a _person_ with feelings! Not a disposable object! You cannot expect me to love you on the 31st, then kiss you goodbye on the New Year! I am _not_ your boyfriend at your leisure, a puppet you jerk around at your amusement.”

“I don’t,” Renjun shakes his head desperately, his anxiety becoming stronger as this spirals out of his control. “Donghyuck, please—”

“No, Renjun, _you_ listen to me,” Donghyuck looks at him firmly, looking him directly in the eyes as he issues his ultimatum. “Either we stay together even when you’re in WayV or we break up _now_.”

Renjun’s heart stops. _No, no, no_ —this can’t be happening. Why is Donghyuck making him choose when to break his heart? Idol relationships don’t last long. He can’t bear to watch Donghyuck slowly and inevitably grow distant, until they look at each other through a pixelated screen and chafe from the choking chains of obligation. Renjun won’t be able to live with that, to have Donghyuck resent him for holding him back. He wants Donghyuck to remember him fondly, like the bright bloom of summer that they spent together.

“Donghyuck,” he pleads. No, he _begs_ , “don’t do this.”

“No, _you_ don’t do this, Renjun,” Donghyuck is so composed, it’s almost cold, the way he looks at him. “You think I want to break up? Because I don’t, I really don’t. But if you’re going to break up with me in 2 months to swan off to WayV, then I’d rather end it now.”

“Donghyuck please,” He racks his mind, trying his hardest to appeal to him. “We have to work together in the upcoming 2 months. We have concerts, year-end performances and award shows, _please_ don’t do this.”

There’s a long silence where Donghyuck just gazes at him. Renjun desperately hopes that he will change his mind, take him in his arms, press a kiss to his cheek and say ‘let’s be together for the time we have left’.

But he doesn’t—Donghyuck just _stares_ at him with something like longing and agony, and shakes his head.

“I can’t,” He says quietly, _pained_. “Listen to yourself—it’s never about me, about _us_. You’re only ever concerned with appearances, with the team. You don’t want to break up now because it’ll be awkward for us to work together. But don’t you think it’ll be awkward _being together_ these 2 months when we’ve had this conversation?”

“We can pretend we never had this conversation,” Renjun says desperately, cupping Donghyuck’s face. “Donghyuck, baby, please. Don’t make me choose.”

Donghyuck’s eyes are closed, his lashes fanned against his cheeks. “I can’t pretend this never happened and look at you the same way I did. I can’t be with you knowing that you plan to break up with me.” He looks up at him with wounded eyes. “And it’s honestly so unfair for you to ask this of me. You’re _using_ me, Renjun.”

Renjun starts weeping silently, because he never wanted to hurt him, “That’s not what I meant to do, Donghyuck, please.”

It’s Donghyuck’s turn to tenderly touch Renjun’s face, brushing at the hollow beneath his eyes with his thumbs, so tenderly that it makes him cry harder. Donghyuck has to love him—he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t love Renjun, right?

“I don’t want to be the bad guy,” Donghyuck whispers with an unhappy twist of his lips. “I don’t want to break up, but I won’t be in a relationship just because it’s easy and convenient. I deserve _more_ than that. I’m here because _I love you_.” Donghyuck’s voice cracks, his tone thick.

Renjun’s shoulders tremble with the force of his tears, because he’s losing Donghyuck, he’s slipping out of his fingers, and he already misses him even though he’s right here in front of his eyes.

“And even though I love you,” Donghyuck continues, his voice measured like he’s steeling himself, “I won’t be with you like this. I have to think about myself too. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who has one foot out the door. I can’t be with someone who just keeps on hurting me.”

“If you’re going to break up with me,” Donghyuck exhales, his voice steady, “you do it _now_ , or _never_.”

Renjun can’t speak, his throat thick with the sobs he’s suppressing. He covers his eyes with his hands, his face streaming with tears. It hurts so much, his chest physically _aches_ like it longs for Donghyuck.

After a long silence, he hears Donghyuck get off the bed. Renjun feels hands clutching his, pulling them away from his face. Donghyuck peers up at him from his tear-blurred vision, “Renjun, please… I love you. Don’t you want to try?” Donghyuck’s eyes are large and vulnerable, filled with anguish. He pleads one last time, “Don’t you love me too?”

Renjun _loves_ Donghyuck with such a frightening intensity that it scares him. He thinks about a love that just grows exponentially with no limit or capacity, a love that just overtakes him and robs him of his senses.

But more than he loves Donghyuck, he’s afraid of Donghyuck not loving him, because he knows it will happen, that life’s obstacles will come between them, until Renjun is left behind, once again watching him from the shadows. He thinks about his career, about how difficult it will be to be split in two, his body in China and his heart nestled in Donghyuck’s hands, always apart, always longing to be reunited.

Home is where the heart is, and as long as his rests with Donghyuck, China will never be his home.

Renjun _can’t_ speak.

After too long a silence, Donghyuck’s face crumbles, hurt flooding his eyes. He lets go of Renjun. When Donghyuck stands up, his face is blank as a statue.

“You won’t even _fight_ for us,” Donghyuck’s lips are thin, his face dark with disappointment. “Why am I not surprised,” Renjun flinches, like he’s been struck with ice. “You never believed in us, you only saw me as easy satisfaction. Did you ever care about me at all? Did you even _love_ me? All this time, it was _always_ me. I’ve devoted myself entirely to this relationship. I gave you _everything_ —I’ve waited for you for months, I forgave your cruel words, I let you play me for a _fool_. No more.”

Renjun wants- no, he _needs_ to say something, but all that he can say is—

“I’m sorry, Donghyuck.”

“Spare me your apologies, I don’t want them.” Donghyuck says coldly, turning around to get his things.

“Where- where are you going?” Renjun asks desperately, his voice inching up in hysterics, his hand almost grabbing Donghyuck’s arm to _stop him from leaving_ , because he’s starting to realise that Donghyuck will leave.

Donghyuck doesn’t even look at him, slipping on his jacket and pulling his phone out. “You don’t think I was going to sleep in my ex boyfriend’s room, did you?” He says casually, his voice so indifferent, it feels cruel. “I have my own room and I have my own bed. We should start getting used to the division of things.”

Renjun watches Donghyuck leave his room— _leave his life_ —utterly immobile, like Medusa had frozen him into stone. At the edge of the door, Donghyuck doesn’t even pause, he doesn’t look back, he doesn’t give Renjun a chance to chase after him.

And that’s how Renjun knows Donghyuck is really _done_.

The door closes so quietly that he doesn’t hear it shut, almost anticlimactic in its ending.

It’s funny—Renjun’s worst fear was that his relationship with Donghyuck would end fizzled out and dry. His relationship with Donghyuck was passionate, fiery and high-tension. They came together explosively, and he thought they would end like fireworks. But this breakup didn’t end with slammed doors, screaming and thrown artefacts. No, it ends like his worst fear—with quiet words and a leeching stillness that turned him to ice.

The world ends not with a bang but with a whimper.

**2019 December**

December finds him in Shenyang, the once capital of the Qing imperial dynasty, as the ambassador for OYF Hot Spring World. For Renjun, this city is the birthplace of his dreams as it is where he had his audition for SM. Coincidentally, he stays at the very same hotel which manifested his dreams by hosting the audition.

After his schedules are done for the day, he takes a trip down memory lane, standing outside the conference rooms where he had danced his heart out to achieve his dreams. The hotel hasn’t undergone a refurbishment so the wallpaper, the chairs, the decor… it’s exactly the same. It’s curious how so much can stay the same and yet be drastically different at the same time. The Renjun who auditioned could never have imagined in his wildest dreams that years later he would be standing here as an idol of a renowned group with his own endorsements.

Renjun thinks there’s something to be said about his first big endorsement being in the place which started it all. It’s like going full circle to the place where he began.

He gets a call from Chenle, who tells Renjun that if he doesn’t arrive within five minutes, all his food will be eaten. Immediately, Renjun goes to Chenle’s room where they partake in some Dongbei specialties like pickled cabbage, pork and chive dumplings, sweet and sour guo bao rou, and a plate of fried potatoes, peppers and aubergine. These are the dishes that his grandmother would make, and it tastes like Renjun’s childhood.

After dinner, Chenle pulls out his phone without another word, completely devoted to PUBG. He claims its practice for their upcoming ISAC esports competition, even though they’ll be competing on PCs instead of phones, and Renjun pesters him about it.

With both of his AirPods still in, his fingers dancing across the screen, Chenle says, “Renjun, you’re like a cloud of gloom and honestly it’s bringing down my performance.”

“You are such an impudent brat,” Renjun scowls, hugging the blue penguin Feifei doll to his chest. “No sympathy or respect for your elders.”

Chenle snorts, not even bothering to look at Renjun, “You absolutely brought it on yourself. I have no sympathy for you. The door’s over there, by the way.”

Renjun’s jaw drops, indignant. “Just because you can say something doesn’t mean you should, Chenle!”

Chenle shrugs unrepentantly, finally pulling out one of his AirPods to look at him, unimpressed. “The truth is the truth, no matter how much you don’t want to hear it. You fucked up and you know it.”

Renjun’s pride has him instinctively bristling. Chenle’s words, no matter how harsh, was uncomfortably spot on and he knew it. “You could have been a little nicer about it,” he says sulkily.

Chenle snorts, giving him a judgemental look, “The other hyungs have all been ‘boo hoo poor baby Renjun’ as if you weren’t the one who brought this on yourself. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Renjun protests weakly. “You think I made this decision lightly? It’s for the best.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Chenle says snidely. “You thought this was the best decision to make? Fine, whatever. But you playing the victim is getting old. You made that choice, now you have to own up to it. Be a fucking adult.”

“I’m not playing the victim!” He retorts angrily. “I can’t be genuinely sad over the end of my relationship?”

“Well whose fault was that?” Chenle reminds him indifferently. “I’m sure you’re sad—your pathetic moping makes it obvious enough. But expecting sympathy when you were the one who caused this hurt is absurd. And it’s not even the first time,” Chenle points at the door, “Like I said, the exit’s that way. If you don’t want to hear the truth, feel free to go.”

Scowling, Renjun marches out of the door before he blows up at Chenle. Thank God they had reached the level of seniority where the company got each of them their own rooms. His anger lasts less than five minutes because he knows that Chenle is right, that he was the source of all this upset, but knowing and acknowledging it are two different things.

Listlessly, he takes a shower and gets ready for bed, but he doesn’t want to sleep yet. He scrolls on his phone, but he inevitably ends up at Kakaotalk, rereading his last texts from a happier time, which makes him sad. He takes out his iPad, thinking of doing a bit of drawing, but he has no inspiration other than the one he’s trying not to think about. Finally, he turns on the TV, ready to watch some mindless show until he falls asleep.

He flicks through the channels until he settles on some high school love story. Embarrassingly, it takes him more than ten minutes before he realises that he’s watching You Are the Apple of My Eye. By then, he’s too invested in the plot to look away despite any _connections_ he has to the movie.

Renjun remembers first watching the movie as a twelve-year-old and not getting the hype. For him, it seemed plain and boring—there was no action, no CGI, no fancy cinematography or whatever. But he _gets it_ now. The appeal of the movie is its sincere relatability, at the ability of the audience to connect to the main characters and self-project themselves onto them. Because everyone has their Shen Chiayi, a person that was too good for them, a love they weren’t brave enough to have, _the one that got away_.

As he watched the relationship in the film develop, the _connection_ becomes harder to ignore. Even if it’s a Taiwanese movie set in the 90s, the behaviour the leads display are embarrassingly familiar. Seeing how the male lead teases her to show his affection, the way the female lead pokes a ballpoint pen in his shoulder to get him to pay attention, the way she scolds him gently to show her care…

At the last ten minutes of the movie, Renjun finds himself in floods of tears as the male lead watches Shen Chiayi marry another man. There’s a flashback which shows if the male lead had been less prideful and apologised to her after they argued, if he had been braver to ask if she loved him, they could have been together.

 _If, if, if_. So much regret for the lost potential. The tragedy of the movie was its relatability; It resonated with the regular person. Average people weren’t separated because of death or disease, war or famine, wealth or disaster. It was about people who had lost love because of common reasons like miscommunication and insecurity. The simplicity of the movie enhanced that, it touched people because it felt like this movie could be about them.

They could be the male lead, who felt undeserving of his beautiful, intelligent, popular crush that even on their first date, he didn’t feel brave enough to say he wanted to know whether she loved him when she asked. They could be the male lead who did something stupid to impress their crush and failed horribly, so much so that they had a big argument and cut off contact. They could be the male lead and only call years later when a life-threatening incident happened, wanting to know their crush is well. They could be the male lead, watching the love of their life marry another person, and lamenting their past mistakes.

There’s something especially devastating in watching a couple who loved each other at the same time miss their opportunity to be together. So much lost potential, and for what? Their fight was so stupid and inconsequential, but it lasted so long and brought years of regret, so much that they never even ended up together. He feels the tears running down his cheeks without permission.

Even when the film ends and he turns off the television, crawling beneath the covers with the lights off, he can’t fall asleep. The double sized bed feels too big, too cold. He’s been crying for weeks ever since Donghyuck left. He wishes someone was there to hold him as he slept. Renjun knows who he wants to cuddle, but he’ll even take Jaemin and his octopus limbs.

Renjun doesn’t want to think—he wants to sleep away his misery, where his dreams will be happy. He puts his sleeping playlist on shuffle, and instantly regrets it when he recognises the song playing.

_‘Don’t you tell me it wasn’t meant to be. Call it quits, call it destiny. Just because it won’t come easily, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.’_

It’s the song that Jaehyun played on his speakers when they roomed together in Tokyo. Renjun had looked it up online afterwards, finding the song and translating the lyrics. At the time, it didn’t mean much to him, but now that he’s in this situation, he feels like he’s being mocked.

Thinking of the movie, thinking of the song—God, even thinking of _Jaemin_ makes him recall the conversation they had several days ago.

Jaemin had taken to sleeping in Renjun’s bed—claiming that Jisung hogged his bottom bunk—not leaving for his room after they had their nightly talks. Renjun knew that Jaemin was trying to get him to open up, but he still remained stubborn.

That night though, Jaemin tried an unorthodox tactic, one Renjun was not ready to resist.

“Do you remember years ago—God, it must have been pre-debut—we went for BBQ? We were talking about NCT’s flexible concept and debut, and you asked me whether I would prefer to have tried and failed, rather than to not have had it at all?”

Renjun faintly recalled something like that. “You said you’d prefer the former, right?”

“Yes. And if you asked me now, my answer would still be the same,” Jaemin said solemnly. “I thought about this a lot while I was on hiatus. I watched the six of you perform and I hated that I was jealous. I hated that I knew what it was like being up on that stage but I couldn’t be there. But you know what? As much I was envious, I was motivated to get better because I knew how good it was. I remembered how happy I felt those 3 months in Dream. If I never had that, I wouldn’t have returned.”

Renjun went quiet. For as loud as Jaemin could be on camera, he was quiet and moody off camera, and rather reticent to talk about his personal feelings. He especially didn’t like to talk about his hiatus.

“I didn’t know if I was going to make a full recovery from an injury like that. My physiotherapist told me not to have high expectations. People say expect nothing, and you’ll never be disappointed,” Jaemin smiled wryly. “But I’m human, I can’t help but wish for a miracle to happen. Obviously, I couldn’t know that I was going to make it back. If I put in all that pain and all that effort in physio—torturing myself for a year—just so the company could say they don’t want me, I think it would have ruined me.” Jaemin shook his head, grimacing.

“But you know what would have been even worse?” Jaemin forced Renjun to look at him. “If I never tried at all. If I’d given up halfway, telling the company I wasn’t going to come back without even doing all that I could. What would kill me is living with this regret for the rest of my life, always wondering if I could have potentially come back. What if, what if, _what if_ … it’s the lost potential that gets to me the most.”

Renjun knew what Jaemin was trying to get at, but it was _different_. Jaemin had invested years in training, this was for his career, something which had high stakes. Love was… non-essential. “I know it seems easy for me to say. I’m back here, living breathing proof that it all went well,” Jaemin said, accurately clocking in on Renjun’s thoughts. “And I know love and career are different playing fields, but don’t you think the same principle applies? That the lost potential of what could have been is the most regretful part?”

There was something frightening about confessing his fears, even if he knew Jaemin wouldn’t judge him. With his eyes closed, in the hush of his own room, he could pretend he was disclosing his secrets to the walls.

“Sometimes, I think he chose me because of proximity,” Renjun whispered quietly. “Maybe it’s a combo of familiarity and loneliness, mixed in with teenage hormones. I get it, you know. We’re all tired and lonely and wanting human connection. I’m the only one sharing the same orientation as him in this team and I’m a safe choice, and maybe he latched on because he thought _this is the best he’s going to get_.”

He practically heard Jaemin’s frown, “Renjun… you’re not some stand-in for Donghyuck. You have to know that he loves you. It’s glaringly obvious that he loves you.”

“I’m not a stand-in?” Renjun laughed mirthlessly. “He was madly in love with Jeno for _years_ and then suddenly he loves me. I might just be a rebound for him, someone who’s there in his moment of need. I know he loves me but it’s not enough if he only loves me because I was his escape, his comfort from the heartbreak.”

“Donghyuck wouldn’t do that to you,” Jaemin said seriously. “He wouldn’t use you like that.”

“I don’t think he does it intentionally. But do you really think he could love Jeno for all those years, then after a few months with me, get over him?” Renjun swallowed, feeling agitated and torn. “I believe that right now he loves me sincerely, but I think our proximity together encouraged feelings of closeness and intimacy. He has a great capacity for love and he’s affectionate, and I think that if we’re apart for so long, it won’t work out.”

Jaemin exhaled loudly, “You’re talking about trust. Donghyuck is touchy, but do you think that he’s going to cheat on you? That just because you’re not there to,” he paused, sounding vaguely discomfited, “do whatever it is you’re doing,” Renjun blushed even though they’ve never really done anything below the belt beyond over clothes touching, “he’s going to lose interest in you?” Jaemin added, “Also, if he only chose you because you’re the only person in the team who’s gay and therefore the safe choice, who could Donghyuck possibly go to?”

“I know he won’t cheat. Donghyuck is more honourable than that,” Renjun said firmly. “It’s just that… his feelings for me might not last. He’ll realise I’m not worth it.” He closed his eyes and let the truth come out.

“It’s not _Jeno_ I’m worried about, not really. It’s me. I… I can’t seem to do anything but fuck up when it comes to Donghyuck. One day, he’s going to realise that he wasted all this time on me,” Renjun got choked up, his voice hoarse with suppressed tears. “He’ll be disillusioned and disappointed with me, and he’ll see I’m not worth the trouble and the secrecy, not when there are so many better people, there are the _Jeno’s_ of the world who can treat him better. I can’t bear to watch him fall out of love with me.”

Jaemin rubbed his arm soothingly and Renjun tried to hold back his tears. “Let’s think about this in a different way. I’m not Donghyuck, I can’t say what he thinks, but _you_ know your feelings for him. I think you should ask yourself—do you love Donghyuck? Just focus on you. Do you love him?”

“I- I do.” Renjun said in a small voice. It felt frightening to say, because he wasn’t used to admitting it out loud. “I love him more than I know what to do with myself.”

“Then do you love him enough to _try_? Forget about whether it’s difficult. Forget about the logistics. Even if it doesn’t end well, do you see yourself 5 years in the future, regretting that you never tried, that you let him get away without fighting for him?” Jaemin asked passionately. “You’re already thinking about the end before you’ve even started. I’m not psychic, I can't say you won’t break up, and I’m sure you’ll be heartbroken.”

“But you know what would hurt even more?” Jaemin asked rhetorically, plunging on. “To _love_ him all this time, all these years, and to never try at all. Even if it ends, at least you tried your best. What’s worse is to have this undefined, _unfinished_ ambiguous relationship with him, where you wonder what could have been. Maybe it would be great, maybe it would be horrible, but you’ll never know unless you try. This could be the worst relationship you have but you’ll at least know _conclusively_ , and you can move on.”

Renjun didn’t think it was possible to move on from Donghyuck. It was an exaggeration to say that he was the centre of Renjun’s universe, but Donghyuck was such an inspiration for what happened in Renjun’s life that it was difficult to separate them such that he could not conceivably see himself moving on.

“If you never try, you’ll always have this thought niggling in the back of your mind, wondering what could have been. This will be a regret that you hold for the rest of your life. Will you ever be able to move on from the thought of what could have been? Maybe you’re right, maybe Donghyuck will give up and find someone else. Can you bear to see him with someone else, thinking that could have been _you_ if you had just tried?”

Just the thought of Donghyuck _loving_ some other man filled Renjun with possessive rage. Merely thinking about some faceless, nameless man waking up to Donghyuck’s sleepy smiles, being on the receiving end of his undivided attention, getting to trace the moles on his cheeks and kiss him made him want to punch something.

Even without seeing his face, Renjun sensed Jaemin’s amusement, “You might want to consider yourself as well. Why do you want to be with Donghyuck? What do you feel when you’re with him? Do you think you could find someone else who makes you feel like that?”

Donghyuck… was there anyone in the world who matched him so well, their humours and personalities so compatible it was like they were soulmates? Was there a person who could infuriate, excite, inspire and delight him as much as Donghyuck did? There were 7.8 billion people in the world, but there was no one else Renjun wanted—it was Donghyuck his heart was fixed on.

There was a heavy solemnness in his chest, a deep-seated ache that flared up every time he thought about Donghyuck. “We broke up,” Renjun wrapped his arms around himself, his voice cracking. “His face… he was done. I think he’s done with me. It’s over, no matter what I feel for him.”

“No, you don’t get to do that,” Jaemin said frustratedly, shaking Renjun’s shoulders. “You can’t say it’s over without even trying! Renjun, you _never_ talk to him. You _owe_ him the truth. Time and time again, you’ve been the one who has pulled away, who’s been reticent. Of course, he feels done! You’ve been treating him like a toy that you put down only to play when you’re bored.”

Renjun grimaced at Jaemin’s words, but he wasn’t done. “If you love him, _let him know_. He’s forgiven you for bigger mistakes. He’s been _waiting_ for you even when you stuck your head in the mud. You have to _try_ or else it’s going to be too late. Because eventually he’s going to give up because you _never_ give him anything.”

Ever since then, the conversation with Jaemin has been weighing heavily on his mind. He’s been trying to avoid thinking about it because it twists his insides up, makes him feel a nauseous mix of guilt, melancholy, despair and hopelessness. But watching this movie about lovers who missed their opportunity together and hearing _that song_ forces all the issues he’s been suppressing to the forefront of his mind.

There is a Korean phrase which their company seniors always remind them—bring back the rookie spirit. They’re about to enter their fourth year of debut, halfway through their seven-year contract, and it’s a time where they start to feel stuck in a rut. Being told to bring back the rookie spirit was a way to tell them to stay humble, to remember their roots where they hungered for the spotlight and were grateful for any opportunity.

Being here in Shenyang, at _this_ hotel brings Renjun back to his roots. It brings him back to the day he auditioned with the tag 176832 across his chest. He makes him remember how he had to take the first bullet train out of Jilin to arrive here on time. He had very nearly not made it, one of the last ones to arrive, and it seemed like fate’s way of saying he wasn’t cut out for this life, a fact he was resigned to since the whole reason why he had even gone to audition was to eliminate a choice so that he would not regret the road not taken.

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both._

Renjun is at a crossroad—take the path to success, debut in WayV, throw himself into work, marry himself to the music, forget about Donghyuck and forget about Korea, become another name in a long list of Chinese idols in Korean entertainment companies that worked exclusively in China, and cement himself as a top Chinese idol the kind his parents dreamt he would become, until time erased the _stain_ that he originated from a Korean group in the eyes of Chinese fans.

Or he could split himself into two, an uneasy divide where his body is in China and his heart with Donghyuck, traveling back to Seoul whenever he had the tiniest of breaks, inviting rumours and inciting suspicion, alienating nationalist fans, all for a relationship that requires more work than _work_.

Love or career. At the cusp of it, like Jaemin said, the principle was exactly the same. Renjun himself knew what it meant to want something he couldn’t have. He had gone to audition expecting to fail, because he knew it was better to have tried and failed rather than to have not tried at all and definitely fail. Fortune favours the bold, after all. Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land in the stars.

He wonders if it was fate for him to fixate on Donghyuck. In a sea of pale, well-mannered and soft-spoken flower boys, Donghyuck was _different_ with his unapologetic outspokenness, his joie de vivre, and undeniable magnetism which lured Renjun like Icarus to the sun. Donghyuck isn’t his be-all and end-all, the source of all his achievements and his raison d’être. Rather, Donghyuck was the cosmic force which pushed Renjun into achieving his goals. Donghyuck _challenged_ Renjun to be better, to go after the things he wanted, to be himself when society, his parents, everyone else wanted somebody else.

The relationship between Renjun and Donghyuck is set out in the universe. Maybe they are past lovers reincarnated. Their synchronicity, the coincidences are too meaningful for it to be written off. What are the chances that it’s _always_ Donghyuck? Renjun was stuck on him when he watched an EXO show, he dreamt of him the night he applied to audition at SM. Even the odds of staying at this hotel, watching the movie that preceded a big fight, listening to a song that described them…

Renjun once remarked to Jisung about his yuanfen with Chenle, about their connection which brought them to meet each other again years after. But it’s equally unbelievable once he starts thinking about how his yuanfen ties him to Donghyuck. The night he dreamt of Donghyuck which made him audition was one under the full moon. It was reminiscent of Yue Lao, the Chinese matchmaking god, who appeared at night and lived under the moon, and would unite predestined couples with a red string around their ankles.

But if they have yuanfen, then why is he being pulled away right now? Why has life brought him all the way to Seoul just to cruelly yank him back when he’s finally making progress? His career in China is building. He has his own permanent radio show, he has endorsements in China, he is on the road to being SM’s new Chinese superstar. With his debut in WayV, he will be far away from Donghyuck. If they are together, it will be long-distance. Would he rather have meagre moments with Donghyuck, or to have absolutely nothing?

Yuanfen isn’t fate, it isn’t divine intervention, a course that is preordained and unchangeable. Yuanfen is just the affinity and compatibility of people, it didn’t negate choice and individual will. Just because Renjun has yuanfen with Donghyuck doesn’t mean they will immediately have their happily ever after.

Perhaps Renjun and Donghyuck’s story, people who had yuanfen to meet and fall in love but got separated is just like the cowherd Niulang and the weaver girl Zhinu. But when it seemed hopeless, the heavens were so moved that they built a bridge of magpies to allow the lovers to reunite for a day each year.

If the universe conspired to bring them together, then Renjun would like to believe that even if Donghyuck and him are apart, like Niulang and Zhiniu, their love would move the heavens and fate would bring them back together, even if it’s just for a time.

Or perhaps there is no fate and life is just a series of recurring repetitions. Maybe he just wants a higher power to exist so that someone out there _believes_ in them too. Maybe it’s to romanticise the pain, so that all the sacrifices he makes will be ultimately worth it. Maybe it’s to give himself conviction, so that even when logic and sense dictate that he should go in one direction, he can justify taking the other road, his own selfish path.

But this is his story, isn’t it? His road, not his parents’, not his fans’, it’s _his_. If he wants to forge his own path, then he should take the one he wants, not the one he should. If he wants to be happy, he should chase after his own happiness, not wait for it to come to him.

_What is happiness? At the end of the last page, I want to find the meaning_

_The beginning and end is the same point of the circle, so a new ending is another beginning. The starting line keeps repeating with no end. I hope my story will be completed._

_Although I don’t know where I should go now, I’ll write my own story. Although there’s no title on this plain story, I’ll find my own answer._

_I’m following the sound of my heart. The whole world is pounding. However my heart leads me, I want to fly freely._

_Even if this isn’t the right path, as I go on I’ll find the answer. Even if everyone tells me no, I think I know the answer of love._

_I think I know the answer._

The lyrics of My Page suddenly reverberate in his head and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Perhaps NCT Dream does encourage teenagers to have hope and dreams through their songs. He certainly can’t be a hypocrite by singing such things and not following through.

Man or God, there’s only one way ahead.

_Two roads diverged into a yellow wood, and I—_

_I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference._

Donghyuck has been steadfastly ignoring him, which Renjun admittedly deserves, but he still yearns to hear from him. Texts and calls go unanswered while Donghyuck is in America performing with 127. Not for the first time, Renjun feels a stab of envy towards 127, and not just because they’re prioritised by the company.

Eventually, 127 returns to Seoul, and Renjun lies in wait. He doesn’t dare ask the hyungs for Donghyuck’s whereabouts, certain that he’s persona non grata—some of the looks he’s received at the gym after the breakup have him concerned for his safety. Anyone would be alarmed when a six-foot something giant with hulking muscles is curling weights heavier than him while glaring at him. But bless Mark Lee’s heart, who texted him to say that he’s going to the gym with Johnny (who is training for Renjun’s demise).

The implication is obvious—it is _now or_ _never_.

Renjun doesn’t even have time to prepare what he’s going to say, not if he wants to get his piece out before Johnny returns to see him intruding on the sanctity of their shared room and throws him out of the fifth floor window. Donghyuck does have a vindictive streak—honestly Renjun can picture him ordering Johnny to dangle him out the window just to toy with him. He suspects Johnny would be all too happy to oblige. Renjun prays Donghyuck is in a forgiving mood.

He reaches the 5th floor 127 dorm, tapping in the new passcode, courtesy of Mark, and lets himself in. The lights are on but the kitchen and living room is empty, Doyoung and Taeyong’s doors are closed, and he hopes that they don’t come out. He feels like the illicit boyfriend sneaking into the house of his girlfriend with conservative and disapproving parents, i.e. Romeo and Juliet.

The door of Donghyuck’s room is normal sized but it feels like a titan, a ferocious fire-spitting dragon guarding the treasure, and Renjun feels small and intimidated standing in front of it.

Renjun reminds himself that if he can debut as an idol in a foreign country at sixteen, then he can have a simple conversation with Donghyuck, a boy who he’s known for years.

The silence feels forever after Renjun knocks on the door, until he hears a muffled ‘come in’ from Donghyuck’s unmistakable voice. With a deep breath to steel himself, he turns the latch, and steps into the battlefield.

Donghyuck is lying down, the grey sheets messy like he hasn’t bothered making the bed, holding his phone above his head. He narrowly misses hitting his head when he drops it, staring at Renjun with shocked eyes.

“How did _you_ get in?”

Renjun winces—that is not promising. “Hi, Donghyuck,” he tries to smile, closing the door carefully—he wanted to delay the hyungs from hearing him and chasing him out with broomsticks. “Can I come in?”

“You’re already in,” Donghyuck says archly, picking up his phone and looking at it deliberately, dismissing him. “My permission is moot. You seem to do whatever you want.”

Renjun stands by the door awkwardly at the face of Donghyuck’s uncharacteristic coolness. “I’m sorry to come here unannounced, but I wanted to talk to you and you weren’t responding to my texts, so…”

“You decided to take matters into your own hands?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to keep up the pretence. “Did you consider _perhaps_ there was a reason why I didn’t want to reply?”

“I wanted to see you directly,” Renjun says, looking away briefly before his eyes return back to Donghyuck like magnets. “I wanted to talk to you before we had activities.”

“If you’re here to _clear the air_ before we perform together, then I tell you not to bother,” Donghyuck bristles, eyes flashing. “No matter what went down between us, I can comport myself appropriately. I’m a professional.”

“I know you are,” Renjun says, appeasing. He swallows, “But I’m not here for professional reasons. I’m here for personal reasons, out of my own selfishness.” He takes a deep breath, “But I recognise that you’re angry at me, and rightfully so. If you want me to leave,” he takes a gamble, “I will. Just say the word.”

Donghyuck bites his lip, appraising him with a weighted look. Sighing, “You never play fair,” he rolls his eyes, “you come all this way, risking the hyungs’ ire, tease me with cryptic riddles, then offer to leave? You knew my curiosity would get the better of me.”

Renjun had banked on that. He smiles slightly. “Then, can I please sit?” he gestures towards the bed. “It’s rather awkward talking to you from opposite ends of the room.”

Donghyuck mutters, “Give him an inch and he’ll take the whole damn mile. This Huang Renjun.” But he still waves his hand over so Renjun takes it as implicit permission.

Sitting at the foot of Donghyuck’s bed, Renjun is finally close enough to look at him properly. It’s no surprise to see the exhaustion on his face, but Renjun feels his heart squeeze. As much as Renjun enjoys promoting with Donghyuck in Dream, maybe the graduation would be good if it allows him some rest.

“You have black hair,” Renjun notes, surprised. “You look good. You look…” _soft_ , he thinks. Approachable and warm. Normal, like he could be a regular—albeit handsome—person on the street. Not a jet-setting idol. To be honest, Donghyuck hasn’t changed that much in his looks, having gone through most of his pubescent growth before Renjun came. But he looks like the Donghyuck that Renjun saw all those years ago on grainy quality pirated videos, and that catches him off guard.

“I always do,” Donghyuck says, but Renjun can tell he’s secretly pleased by the way he angles his head away.

Renjun clears his throat, “You might have an idea why I’m here.”

Donghyuck tenses, the little levity he had disappearing. He doesn’t say anything, looking at Renjun guardedly.

There’s no way for it but to jump straight in. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to ask you to be my boyfriend until I debuted in WayV. It was cruel and selfish of me, and it gave off the wrong impression that I only want you when it’s convenient. I didn’t consider how you felt. It’s not the way you should treat someone you love.”

“I know I have a lot of nerve to come here to ask this of you,” Renjun takes a deep breath, looking at him hopefully, “but I want us to get back together. No deadlines. To be together, even if we’re in different units.”

Donghyuck leans back, his arms folded against his chest. There is no way that he didn’t expect this, but he still seems flabbergasted that Renjun would even ask this.

“You’re right,” his lip curls into a mirthless smile. “You _do_ have a lot of nerve to break my heart and then come back to ask me this.”

“Donghyuck, I’m sorry,” Renjun’s stomach drops. “I’ll be better, I won’t do it again.”

Donghyuck looks at him for a long moment. The wariness in his eyes stings, because it just goes to show how much Renjun messed up. Finally, Donghyuck sighs, shaking his head, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” he says tiredly. “Haven’t we done this already, Renjun?”

Renjun bites his lip, the guilt bubbling over. He moves closer to Donghyuck until they sit side by side, “I know I treated you horribly. I know you think I’m toying with you again, but I’m not. I really want us to be together.”

“I wish I could believe you, but I can’t,” Donghyuck rubs his face with his hand, looking tired and worn out. “You said you didn’t want to hurt me but that’s all you do time and time again.”

“And I regret that wholeheartedly,” Renjun pleads passionately. “I wish I could go back in time and stop myself. I wish I had never said it because I want to be with you, because _I love you_.”

It’s the first time that Renjun has admitted that to him.

Donghyuck’s face falls like a house of cards. “You’re being unfair, Renjun,” his voice cracks. “I’ve wanted to hear that for so long and you only tell me _now_? That’s unfair—that’s… it’s _manipulative_.”

“I’m sorry,” Renjun’s throat feels thick. “I’m so sorry. I can never get anything right. I’m not trying to manipulate you. It’s just… if this is the end,” he gets choked up, the words stuck in his throat, and he has to swallow hard, “then I want you to know the truth. I love you and I’m sorry that I love you so poorly, that you always get hurt because of me. I’m sorry that I was such a horrible boyfriend.”

“You said you wanted to break up to protect yourself. Well, I want to protect myself too.” He says accusingly, “How do I know that you love me genuinely? You just want me back because you no longer have me and I’m _right here_. When you’re away, you might change your mind. I can’t go through this over and over again.”

“I do. I do love you,” Renjun says desperately. When he had imagined confessing his love to Donghyuck, never had he imagined that he wouldn’t be believed. It’s a blow to realise he’s managed to make Donghyuck think so little of him. He tries to take his hand, “I want you even if you’re halfway around the world. Even if I’m in China and we can’t meet for months. No matter our geographical distance, I want you because I love you and I have loved you for a very long time.”

“Maybe that’s true,” Donghyuck takes his hand away, holding himself defensively like Renjun is playing a joke on him, “or maybe you’re just saying that because I’m not giving in to you like I did all those times before.

How can he make Donghyuck believe, he thinks despairingly. Well, Renjun has nothing to lose anymore.

“I’m insecure and I’m a coward,” Renjun confesses, finally revealing the ugly parts of himself he was always determined to hide. “I’m scared of the future and of change. This is our reality—we are idols for a finite time before we are replaced by newer, prettier and younger models. Next year, you’ll be off in 127 for good and I’ll be in China with WayV. We might never get to promote together again,” he looks at Donghyuck sadly. “Just like how I fear being replaced in Dream, I’m afraid that I’ll be replaced by someone better in your affections.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows, opening his mouth, but Renjun holds his hand up, stopping him from speaking. “Please, let me finish. I know it’s stupid and illogical—I know but I can’t help it. You don’t know the effect you have on people; they just gravitate towards you like planets around the sun, and you could have anyone you want. I’m not blaming you for that. I was insecure and I didn’t want us to be together because I love you too much to watch you slowly fall out of love with me. To regret being with me. I wanted our love to stay this perfect, happy, passionate red. I’d rather rip the bandage off once and for all than to have this prolong suffering.”

“That makes no sense at all,” Donghyuck argues.

“I know, I was wrong,” Renjun admits fully. “I was absolutely miserable the weeks after we broke up, and that’s just a taste of what life is without you. I’d rather have you in any way I can than to not have you in my life at all. I don’t know if we will work out, but I want to _try_ because I love you so much.”

Donghyuck still looks unconvinced. Defensively, he says, “Maybe you’re confusing love with lust. It’s all this kissing—I told you it produces feelgood, happy and in love chemicals.”

Renjun laughs wryly, “That might have been the case—for both of us—in the beginning but you and I both know it’s more than that. I don’t love you because you’re a good kisser, true as that may be,” Donghyuck smacks him on the arm. “The love I have for you—it’s been a long time coming. I’ve told you that I saw you on television before I was accepted as a trainee.”

“You can’t tell me it was love at first sight,” Donghyuck snorts. “I don’t believe that.”

“You’re right on that account,” Renjun smiles slightly when Donghyuck looks offended. “I didn’t like you. The truth was that I was jealous. You didn’t seem that great but you had everything I wanted, and everyone loved you. You lived life the way you wanted to, and I was envious because I couldn’t.”

“Wow.” Donghyuck deadpans. “How flattering, just what I like to hear.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have flowery words or expensive gifts to woo you,” Renjun bites his lip, looking down on his lap. “My cowardly heart isn’t worth much, but it’s yours wholeheartedly. You might doubt that I don’t want to hurt you, but _never_ doubt that I love you, because I _do_ , truly and ardently.”

“Well,” Donghyuck seems slightly taken aback by the declaration. He swallows, “Go on then.”

Emboldened, Renjun goes on, “I admire your bravery—how you’re so unapologetically yourself, how you dare to love fearlessly. You had the courage to come out to your family and the members when it would be easier to be quiet. It would be easier to live with the status quo—to have a conventional life, do conventional things. And you’re anything but that. You’re a tornado of change and chaos, you came into my life and messed it all up.”

“I was envious of you because you did everything you wanted to, and you were so _free_ and happy. You made me realise that I want more, that I wasn’t happy with the way things were. You are my inspiration, my muse,” Renjun speaks from the heart, and this time, when he reaches out to touch Donghyuck’s hand, he lets him and links their fingers together. This gives him the courage to continue. “You pushed me to audition, you challenged me to become a better singer, and you forced me to acknowledge truths that I preferred buried. You made me reflect on myself and what I wanted, which was to be true to myself and to be happy in my own skin.”

Donghyuck is staring at him with wide eyes, and something in Renjun _surges_ and the words just come right out.

“It’s with _you_ , that I most feel like myself. I don’t have to be Renjun, the pure boy who lights up the world, the hypocrite who advises people to be brave and act from the heart but can’t do it himself. I can be Huang Renjun from Jilin, a boy who is fearful and imperfect, unintentionally cruel and probably the biggest _idiot_ on the planet, who makes mistakes but tries his best to learn from them, and begging for another chance to make amends.”

Donghyuck laughs, watery and choked up, and his eyes are shiny with tears. Renjun squeezes his hand, feeling so naked and vulnerable before him, like he’s stripped of all his armour and laid down his walls to show Donghyuck all the ugly insides. “Do you believe me now when I say I love you?”

“I do, I believe that you love me,” Donghyuck wipes at his eyes harshly, and Renjun stops him, gently brushing beneath his eyes. Donghyuck tracks his progress, worrying his lip. “But... you’re right—we’re idols, not regular people, it’s never going to be easy for us. You’ll have to sign a new contract for WayV. It’ll be _years_ of you in China, I have my military enlistment… what if love runs out? What if we get tired of waiting?”

“I believe life has a way of bringing us back together,” Renjun says earnestly. “Think about Jisung and Chenle, how they met years ago as children and reunited at the company.”

“That’s different,” Donghyuck looks anguished. “They aren’t dating, they’d just met that day. They didn’t spend hours and days thinking about the other, wondering what the other is up to.”

Renjun thinks about the movie, about letting potential slip through his fingers like sand, and it leads him to say, “I will spend days, weeks, months and _years_ thinking about you if I don’t try right now. Do you believe in reincarnation or parallel universes?”

“What?” Donghyuck looks astonished, blinking, “How does that—”

“You can make fun of me, but I believe that it exists,” Renjun says resolutely. “Maybe my soul _knows_ you, maybe we’ve been reincarnated for several lifetimes, which is why we get on so well, why we’re _soulmates_. But you know what? I don’t want to wait for the next lifetime to be with you. I don’t want to comfort myself by thinking that our alternate selves in the parallel universe are happily together. It’s not _enough_ and it’ll _never_ be enough. Not when you’re right here in front of me, and I could _try_.”

“You think we’re soulmates?” Donghyuck asks in a small voice, his eyes never leaving Renjun’s.

“I believe we are. I believe we are connected by the red string of fate—I first dreamt of you when it was a full moon, and it pushed me to audition for SM, which brought me to you,” Renjun would be embarrassed to say all of it, but he’s passed the point of shame, not if it convinces Donghyuck.

“If we’re fated, why does it keep going wrong?” Donghyuck looks torn, even when there’s a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. “Why do we keep fighting? Why is fate bringing us apart?”

“It brought our lives to intersect with each other, but we need to fight for it,” Renjun insists, willing him to believe. “We wouldn’t be here talking if fate wanted us apart. We have a fighting chance. Let's be storm bravers, come rain or shine, come hell or high water—I want us to be together through it all.”

“It’s never going to be perfect though,” Donghyuck says, but Renjun thinks he’s swaying, he’s coming round. “It’s not going to be easy having a long-distance relationship.”

“It’s never going to be easy, but what’s right is never easy. I don’t need _perfect_ if I have you. You are _enough_ for me in any way, shape or form.” Donghyuck blushes, looking flustered, and Renjun pushes the advantage. “Maybe all our fears of long distance will come true, but I have to try because it’s you. You’re worth it—you’re worth all the tears and pain and heartache. I know that I will regret this my whole life if I didn’t try.”

Donghyuck looks overwhelmed. He looks away, blinking at the ceiling lights, his eyes glassy. Renjun leans forward, cupping his cheek, and the tears spill over, shining wetly on his face.

“Donghyuck?” Renjun asks tentatively, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird. “Baby, don’t cry.”

“Damn you, Huang Renjun,” Donghyuck shakes his head.

Before Renjun can draw back with a heart like stone, Donghyuck reaches forward to bury his head in the crook of his neck, and Renjun hesitantly wraps an arm to envelope him. “I really wanted to be resolute. I told myself that I wasn’t going to fall for it.”

“… but?” Renjun says shakily, his hope warring against his fear of disappointment, a tiny ray of light shining through the pregnant stormy clouds.

“But _you_ ,” Donghyuck says fondly, lifting his head, and Renjun finds himself with a lapful of boy. He stares at Donghyuck with awe and hope, “Darling, maybe you should be a poet or a negotiator or a car salesman, because you can convince a man to give you the clothes off his back.”

“You can’t proposition me without giving me a straight answer,” Renjun protests, trying to calm his racing heart. He doesn’t think Donghyuck would be so cruel to toy with him like this, but they’ve learnt the hard way not to assume.

“Nothing about me is straight,” Donghyuck jokes, grinning at him, his smile bright and brilliant like the sun after a storm, and Renjun is hypnotised. “But here’s your answer.”

Donghyuck leans forward and Renjun’s eyes flutter close. There’s a breath of air before Donghyuck’s lips are on his, sweet and loving, like returning home after a long day of work, like the crackling fire on a winter’s day. It’s a kiss that feels like a new beginning, like the closing of a chapter and the start of a new one.

When Donghyuck parts, Renjun leans his forehead against his, unable to bear being away from him. “What does that mean?” He whispers, not wanting to break the delicate spell they’re in. “Do you… do you want me?”

“I never stopped.”

Renjun pulls back slightly, seeing Donghyuck’s soft eyes and the small smile that plays on his lips, intimate and tender and so adoring that he could cry.

“I love you,” Renjun says, choked up. “So, _so much_.”

“I love you too,” Donghyuck smiles, caressing his cheek and pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Renjun’s heart grows and grows, he feels like he’s a hot air balloon, expanding and soaring. How could he ever fear this love when it made him so incredibly happy?

“Let’s not regret another day, okay? Let’s not spend another day in pain,” Donghyuck says, smiling as Renjun winds his arms around him tightly. “Let’s try. Let’s _be happy_.”

Renjun cups Donghyuck’s face in his hands and kisses him. The icy grip of pain, fear and worry that imprisoned him for so long is freed by Donghyuck’s love, until he feels bathed in the light, warmed by the sun.

 _Come what may_ , he thinks.

He doesn’t need to try to be happy—he already is.

(“If I die tonight, just know that it was worth it. I have no regrets,” Renjun says seriously, and Donghyuck makes a bemused noise. “Johnny hyung is going to come back from the gym soon and I’d rather die than leave, so he’s going to beat me to a pulp.”

Donghyuck laughs, and Renjun is the fool who would genuinely die for him. “Don’t worry, little boy,” he winks. “I’ll protect you from Johnny hyung.”

“Yah! Who are you calling a little boy?” Renjun reaches for his neck, and predictably, they descend into a game of play wrestling, until Donghyuck ends up on the top, straddling his waist and beaming.

Renjun forgets about his indignation when Donghyuck is laughing so happily. He stares at Donghyuck in wonder, at how this beautiful sunshine boy is _here_ in his arms, and he feels so blessed.

When they kiss, he can practically taste the joy, like a burst of citrus fruit, like sweet Jeju tangerines. Renjun smiles, because he _can’t_ believe it, he can’t believe that he’s been given another chance, and he feels Donghyuck smiling into the kiss too until they have to stop kissing because they’re grinning too much.

Predictably, Johnny finds Renjun in Donghyuck’s bed, _kissing_ , and he is displeased, to say the least. Renjun would never admit it, but it’s kind of hot seeing Donghyuck boss around someone bigger than him.

Donghyuck even has the audacity to kick Johnny out of his own room, telling him to sleep in someone else’s room for the night lest he sees something he doesn’t want to see. Johnny turns faintly green before he hightails out of the place.

Renjun raises an eyebrow as Donghyuck wraps his arms around him, cuddling up to him, acting like the cat that got the canary.

“Have I told you that I love you?”

Donghyuck hums, his eyes twinkling with all the stars in the night sky, and presses a kiss to Renjun’s lips. “You’re welcome to remind me again.”)

**2020 Epilogue**

Renjun finds Donghyuck on the balcony of Chenle’s house, overlooking the Han River. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear the noise of rowdy boys before it’s muffled from the balcony door closing.

With a grin, Renjun sneaks up behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his waist, laughing when Donghyuck jolts, nearly jumping out of his own skin.

“Jesus Christ,” Donghyuck curses, turning around to look at him. “I could have slipped, banged my head and _died_ —you wouldn’t be laughing at the thought of my death, would you?”

“But you didn’t,” Renjun smiles, cuddling up to Donghyuck, gazing up at him from beneath his lashes in a way which emphasises the shine of his eyes, a look that makes people amenable to his requests.

Donghyuck huffs, tilting Renjun’s head away. “Be gone, demon.”

“Demon? Is that any way to refer to your beloved boyfriend?” Renjun asks slyly, causing Donghyuck to roll his eyes. “Speaking of death, you’ll catch your death in this cold wearing so little outside _again_ after we performed at the MBC Gayo. Why are you out here anyway?”

“Felt like some fresh air after all that smoke and heat inside,” Donghyuck says, turning back around and pointing over the balcony. “People are releasing fireworks intermittently. If you stay out here long enough, it’s like having your own private fireworks show.”

Renjun cosies up closer to Donghyuck, wrapping his arms around him so that they’re chest to chest to share body heat, because he’s sure as hell not going to take off _his_ jacket—he’s not some dumb k-drama male lead.

“The trade-off is that you get the fresh scent of rotten eggs from the sulphur of the fireworks,” Renjun wrinkles his nose. “We’re idols—aren’t you sick of fireworks? Come inside, at least it’s warm and smells like meat.”

“It’s not _that_ cold out,” Donghyuck protests.

Renjun reaches up to pinch Donghyuck’s cheek, “How much have you drunk? You really shouldn’t have matched Chenle drink for drink. Your alcohol tolerance isn’t that good.”

Donghyuck pouts fiercely, “He just turned legal! He should be in a puddle after a bottle of soju!”

“There, there,” Renjun pats him on the cheek like the way he would do to a puppy. “You know Chenle was in cahoots with Jeno which allowed him to drink that much.”

Donghyuck pouts harder and it’s too cute for Renjun to resist, so he presses a kiss to the round cheeks, one on each side, and he pulls back to see a faint blush on his boyfriend’s ( _the title is still so thrilling to say_ ) face.

Renjun smiles knowingly as Donghyuck tries to recover himself, clearing his throat, “I think you’re drunk.”

“Why?” Renjun raises an eyebrow. “I drank some, but certainly not enough to lose my wits.”

Donghyuck says haughtily, “You’re drunk because your motor coordination is completely off. You missed.” Here, he points his index finger to his lips, puckering them to make a kissy face.

Renjun stares at him in mild disbelief before he cringes. “You’re ridiculous,” he huffs, even as he does the aegyo face back to him, pouting his lips and pointing his finger at it.

Donghyuck shudders dramatically, miming a vomit motion, and Renjun shoves him (lightly), offended.

“See, you’re even having difficulty finishing your sentence,” Donghyuck says, eyes twinkling as he recovers.

Renjun narrows his eyes, thinking, and just as he says, “Don’t you say it!”

Donghyuck finishes, “Ridiculously good kisser!”

They stare at each other for a moment before they dissolve into giggles, clutching onto each other for balance. “God, that was like, what? A year and a half ago?” Renjun asks.

“Something like that,” Donghyuck says, his grin fading into something softer. “It’s kind of unbelievable that a practice kiss would bring us here.”

“We’re proper adults now, not teenagers anymore,” Renjun agrees, gazing at Donghyuck.

“It’s kind of crazy that I spent all my teenage years with the Dreamies. We really did grow up together,” Donghyuck says, smiling, before his voice turns mischievous, “I’m kind of thankful that you joined a little later though—after my worst bouts of acne and voice cracks.”

“I have the pictures if I want to see,” Renjun says snarkily, before he softens, remarking, “It’s funny how I was so afraid of reaching the scary twenty.”

“You’re not afraid anymore?”

“I still am, in a way, but I also think that it’s going to be okay,” He touches Donghyuck’s cheek, feeling the warmth emanating off him, and how he leans into Renjun’s palm. “We’ll be okay.”

Donghyuck stares into his eyes, slowly inching closer, and Renjun is anticipating a kiss when suddenly, there’s a loud crash coming from inside and high pitch laughter immediately thereafter.

Donghyuck and Renjun trade looks, saying simultaneously, “Chenle.”

“I think it’s safe to say he may be drunker than you are now,” Renjun allows.

“It’s just unfair that he can add good drinker to his resume of talents,” Donghyuck grumbles playfully. “Piano prodigy, child ingénue turned idol, and now he’s even a singer-songwriter.”

“I also contributed to writing the song too!” Renjun exclaims sulkily. “Wait, you've heard it?”

“The one you two wrote for your project from the Chinese music school?” Donghyuck clarifies, and Renjun nods. “No, he only told me that he was composing it on the piano.”

“Hmm,” Renjun says thoughtfully. So Donghyuck still hasn’t heard it, though it’s not like he would have understood since the song was in Chinese. “Do you want to hear it?” he blurts out.

Perhaps Renjun is drunker than he thought if he’s offering to let Donghyuck hear a piece of his heart. When Chenle first saw Renjun’s lyrics, he had raised his eyebrows before smirking knowingly. He had endured much teasing ever since then, but Chenle told him afterwards that he was happy they had worked out their issues.

“Of course,” Donghyuck answers, straightening up in excitement, clapping like a child at Christmas. “My boyfriend’s first song! I just know it’ll be a hit!”

“Oh, hush you,” Renjun tries to hide a smile as he tries to find the file on his phone. “It’s in Chinese and it’s not even a commercial release. It’s our graduating assignment.”

“I know you and Chenle,” Donghyuck answers simply, handing Renjun one AirPod and putting the other in his own ear. “Whatever you two put together will be nothing short of spectacular.”

“Well, let’s hope you’ll be right,” Renjun says, strangely nervous, even though Donghyuck can’t suddenly have gained the ability to understand Chinese. “It’s called A New Beginning.”

Donghyuck smiles softly, taking his hand in his, “Don’t be nervous,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the birthmark on the back of Renjun’s palm. “It’s just me.”

“I’m nervous because it’s you,” Renjun says in Chinese, before clearing his throat and pressing play.

As piano fills their ears, Donghyuck stares outwards at the yellowish lights that dot the skyline, their own stars of Seoul, and Renjun stares at him—his muse.

“I love the song,” Donghyuck says after the first listen. “The piano is very much a Chenle touch, and the song is very _you_. I always thought if you released a solo song it would be along the veins of that. I don’t know what you’re saying, of course, but it sounds like an emotional song?” Donghyuck glances at him for confirmation. “And I can feel your sincerity in it. It’s beautiful, Renjun, you sound angelic.”

“Do you want to see the translation?”

Renjun is _definitely_ drunk if he’s offering that, but he can’t take it back now, not when he is looking at him like that. Oh, who is he kidding? He translated the lyrics into Korean as soon as he had recorded the song, so subconsciously he had planned on showing it to Donghyuck.

“Of course,” Donghyuck perks up. “You know I like anything you do.”

“It’s called _A New Beginning_ ,” Renjun repeats himself quietly, knowing that he’s about to open his heart to be perceived, and yet he feels a strange mix of fearlessness and acceptance.

_When I close my eyes, it’s almost like I can still hear the noise. When I open my eyes once more, but don’t know where you all went. The us in that moment, the time of our youth will never come back, so we have to walk forward and not look back till we reach our heart’s goal._

_Let the end be the start of a new beginning. Let obstacles make us stronger. The us in that moment, the time of our youth, it will never come back._

_When will it be, our next meeting? We’ll eventually fly towards different places. We have to walk forward towards our own direction to become the most gleaming light._

_Even if we’re physically apart, our hearts are still together. Towards the new direction, don’t doubt yourself, just walk forward bravely._

_The path we walked together before, the memories we created will always be in my heart. So that’s why we have to walk forward and not look back till we reach our heart’s goal._

_Let the end be the start of a new beginning. Let obstacles make us stronger. The us in that moment, the time of our youth, it will never come back._

_When will it be, our next meeting? Don’t look back, don’t give up. We’ll eventually fly towards different places. We have to walk forward towards our own direction to become the most gleaming light._

_Just let the end be a new beginning. Us in that moment, the time of our youth._

“Renjun,” Donghyuck’s eyes are brimming with emotion, his lips parted with awe and incredulity. “Did you…”

Renjun blushes at the unabashed admiration in Donghyuck’s face. “Did I what?”

“I don’t want to presume to be that arrogant idiot,” Donghyuck caresses Renjun’s cheek lightly and he laughs quietly, “but did you write this about me?”

Renjun rubs the back of his neck embarrassedly, unable to hold prolonged eye contact with him. “You were some of the inspiration, yes. It’s also about Dream too.”

Donghyuck seems stunned, and Renjun says quietly, “I hope you don’t doubt that I love you after this.”

“I would never,” Donghyuck is still staring at him with those soft honey eyes of his and Renjun’s insides feel like a pile of mush. “God, I love you so much. This is so beautiful, Renjun. Truly, it’s the most wonderful thing ever. No one’s ever written a song about me before.”

“Well, Mark hyung wrote his verse on Baby Don’t Like It about you but I suppose that’s not the most flattering thing to receive. It’s also not quite a song, so I guess you’re right.” Renjun says stupidly.

Donghyuck stares at him with boggled eyes for a moment, long enough that Renjun contemplates throwing himself off the balcony, and then his boyfriend(!) sputters into helpless laughter. “I’m in love with an idiot,” Donghyuck shakes his head and Renjun flushes at the backhanded compliment. “Way to put your foot in it. Take the compliment, darling.”

Renjun grumbles, still red faced and embarrassed, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You’ve ruined the mood,” Donghyuck sighs, even though he smiles and cards his hand through Renjun’s hair.

“I’m always in the mood for you,” Renjun says.

It’s not until Donghyuck’s eyes widen and he descends into a giggling fit for the second time in minutes that Renjun realises the double entendre that he made.

“Donghyuck! Stop it!” He huffs, smacking his hand against his forehead. “Now who’s the one ruining the mood? Ugh, I told you I’m not good at this romance business.”

“No, don’t be upset, darling,” Donghyuck, still giggling away, takes Renjun’s hand until he joins him in laughing at himself. “I’d say you’re very romantic… you did write a love song about me and you've drawn portraits of me.”

Renjun tries to look away, still feeling bashful, but Donghyuck doesn’t allow him, taking a step closer until they’re chest to chest, so that all Renjun can see is Donghyuck.

“Well,” he mutters, his eyes roaming across Donghyuck's face, past Ursa Minor on his cheek until Renjun gazes into his eyes, “don’t forget that, okay? No matter where we end up, never forget that I love you.”

“I won’t,” Donghyuck places Renjun’s hand over his heart, and he places his own hand on Renjun’s chest, until their hearts are beating in sync. “No matter where we are, our hearts are together.”

Renjun listens to Donghyuck’s heart beating steadily beneath his hand. Where he once felt fear, anxiety and insecurity, now he feels at peace and secure, knowing that whatever happens, he’s tried—he has done his best.

“This is just a new beginning for us.”

“Happy New Year, Renjun.”

Beneath the night sky, Donghyuck kisses him as fireworks pop in the sky, and Renjun is the star who is held by the sun. The pale moon watches as blazing sparks of red illuminate the sky like strings dancing in the night, until they are invisible once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First of all, thank you so much to you for reading. It is my sincere hope that you enjoyed reading my first foray into the wondrous world of fanfiction.
> 
> To my prompter, thank you for allowing me to write out your idea. I took your prompt and ran away with it. It’s more introspective and a character study of Renjun than you were perhaps expecting, but I hope you like it nonetheless.
> 
> Secondly, thank you so much to the Renhyuck mods for hosting this fic fest. You are the pillar of the Renhyuck nation for your great work in creating this fest which allowed us to sink our teeth in so many amazing Renhyuck works.
> 
> Thirdly, an immense thank you to my incredible beta. Dearest Steph, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much beta-ing for me. In March when you first agreed to do this, I bet you never expected that you would have so much work cut out for you. I am sorry that I’m so unruly and completely disregarded your advice in trimming the fat (lol) and went on my merry way, increasing the wordcount at every turn. You truly worked hard. If this fic is remotely humorous, you are the reason why. To be honest, if this fic is any good, you are the reason why. Thank you for guiding me out of the maze of roadblock when I was stuck. Without your encouragement, I would not have been able to finish writing. Thank you for being the Donghyuck to my Renjun.
> 
> Fourthly, though they’ll never know (and I pray it stays this way), thank you to Renjun and Donghyuck for being the ultimate inspiration. I tried to make the premise of my writing as realistic as possible by using as many canon moments. Although, there is a dose of artistic liberty, weirdly enough there’s sufficient canon moments which is so compatible in the narrative I wanted to portray. Their yuanfen is out of this world. I was extremely tempted to compile a bibliography of references I used, but I refrained because my beta kindly reminded me that I didn’t have the time for that.
> 
> I would like to thank myself for not giving up. Honestly, when I outlined this initially, I knew it was going to be a long fic, but I thought it was going to be 40k max. By May, when I finally started writing in earnest, I realised that wasn’t going to happen. The word count went steadily up without me reaching the end and I was at my wit’s end. 70k turned into 80k and then 90k. Despite the chaos of the world, thank you for not giving up. Thank you for being able to successfully churn out your first fic. But next time, I beg you, don’t procrastinate until the end and be a deadline fighter (it's not going to happen--my next fic is due in less than a month haha).
> 
> Finally, I would like to thank you once more for reading this 91k monstrosity. It is very dear to my heart as my first work and I’ve written her for months. If you did like it, please leave me kudos and drop me a line in the comments section, I would love to hear what you thought. If, for some reason, you would like to hear more from me, then please find me on Twitter @spyblue31. Thank you, stay safe, and I wish you all the best xx


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